Ah! it told of Leif the Lucky, with his sword and his Vikings bold,
Who hounded the bear to his cavern in the land where the penguins scold.
We heard the clang of their axes; we were jarred with the crash of their swords,
As the blaring bugles shrilled their notes in thin, transparent words.
And the wind sang of brave Hudson, and it sobbed for his starving son,
As, adrift in a boat, they were chilled by the glut of that night without a sun.
And the blast sobbed out its tale of death, of Baffin, Franklin, and Kane,
Of Marvin, de Long, and Parry; of the days of sorrow and pain.
Yet, the blinding sea-mew caroled with joy, as it whined by the loitering fleet,