Oh! Hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”
The little penguins all bob low as the Misty Maid goes by.
She’s seen the trail of Nansen, and she’s hovered o’er Peary’s head,
She’s cried at the fate of Hudson, at the boat of a hundred dead,
She’s watched the fires of Davis, she’s fastened the anchors of Kane,
And she’s been near the tents of Franklin, by the icy wind-ripped lane.
Oh! hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”
Oh! Hear the penguins laffin, while the cutting blizzards sigh,
Oh! Hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”