Sea Fever
Eleanor Chaffee, Phillipp Friedrich Silcher
When the wind is blowing out of the singing south
Then would I be going sea sprayed upon my mouth
When the tide is drifting over the silver sand
My heart sails are lifting set for another land
When the stars are staring down from a cloudless sky
Then would I be fairing where the gray gulls cry
Out where the gray gulls cry
Gray gulls cry