The little penguins all bob low as the Misty Maid goes by.
Yes, the Maid is a Maid of sorrow, her cheeks with tears are dim;
For the skeletons of a thousand men she’s seen on the North Pole rim.
As she prances on her snow white steed she beckons to stay away,
For her home is a home of frozen death—yea! pain and death alway.
But hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”
The penguins still are laffin while the cutting blizzards sigh;
You can hear them always laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”
The little penguins all bob low as the Misty Maid goes by.