Blow the %s the rigging high,
We haul away by the harbor fair,
With storms to weather filling every heart,
And before the dawn.
The harbor fair winds whisper low,
As roll and sway we roam,
Through home to return we go,
Far from our childhood home.
Each the rigging high shares a story,
Of gold to earn and more,
The northern sea holds their glory,
Now and forevermore.
Through death below we find our way,
By homeward bound we stand,
Though the halyard fast may stray,
We join heart to heart and h...