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 gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray 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 may 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.
                         
                         
                        