THORKILD'S SONG
_There is no wind along these seas,_ Out oars for Stavanger! Forward all for Stavanger! _So we must wake the white-ash breeze,_ Let fall for Stavanger! A long pull for Stavanger!
_Oh, hear the benches creak and strain!_ (A long pull for Stavanger!) _She thinks she smells the Northland rain!_ (A long pull for Stavanger!)
_She thinks she smells the Northland snow,_ _And she's as glad as we to go!_
_She thinks she smells the Northland rime,_ _And the dear dark nights of winter-time._
_Her very bolts are sick for shore,_ _And we--we want it ten times more!_
_Hoe--all you Gods that love brave men,_ _Send us a three-reef gale again!_
_Send us a gale, and watch us come,_ _With close-cropped canvas slashing home!_
But--_there's no wind in all these seas,_ A long pull for Stavanger! _So we must wake the white-ash breeze,_ A long pull for Stavanger!
OLD MEN AT PEVENSEY