On the sea the waves will drift us,
And the storm-winds wreck our vessel;
Then our bands must do the rowing,
And our feet must steer us homeward
Like the serpent through the heather
Like the creeping of the adder
Wolves are howling from our hearts
On the eyes the bears are growling
The old moon is shining, gleams the silver sunlight
The walk sings the cold
The old moon is shining, gleams the silver sunlight
And the frost shines blue
The our bands must do the rowing,
And our feet must steer us homeward
Find the vessels sorely weeping,
Hear the wailing of the rigging