I must go down to the seas again,
to the lonely sea and the sky,
and all I ask is a tall ship
and a star to steer her by,
and the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking
and a grey mist on the sea's face
and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that mayb not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume,
and the sea-gulls crying,
I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way
where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,
and quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.