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On the sea the waves will drift us,

And the storm-winds wreck our vessel;

Then our hands 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, 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

Then our hands must do the rowing,

And our feet must steer us homeward

Find the vessels sorely weeping,

Hear the wailing of the rigging