The night is behind us
And black are the waters that sparkled so green
The moon o'er the combers looks downward to find us
At rest in the hollows that rustle between
Where billow meets billow
Then soft be thy pillow
Ah weary wee flipperling
Is curled at thy ease
The storm shall not wake thee
Nor shark overtake thee
Asleep in the arms of the slow swinging sea
Where billow meets billow
Then soft by thy pillow
Ah weary wee flippering
Is curled at thy knees
The storm shall not wake thee
Nor shark overtake thee
Asleep in the arms of the slow swinging seas
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