(_Bow-Paddler._) Who lifts this chant? Who sounds this vaunt?
(_All._) The wild sea song, to the billows' throng, Rising, falling, Hoarsely calling, Now high, now low, as fast we go, Fast on our flying foe!
(_Bow-Paddler._) Who lifts this chant? Who sounds this vaunt?
(_All._) Dip, dip, in the brine our paddles dip, Dip, dip, the fins of our swimming ship! How the waters part, As on we dart; Our sharp prows fly, And curl on high, As the upright fin of the rushing shark, Rushing fast and far on his flying mark! Like him we prey; Like him we slay; Swim on the fog, Our prow a blow!
(_Bow-Paddler._) Who lifts this chant? Who sounds this vaunt?
(_All._) Heap back; heap back; the waters back! Pile them high astern, in billows black; Till we leave our wake, In the slope we make; And rush and
