The Maid is a girl of sadness, and the Maid is a girl of woe,
For she’s Mistress of the Polar Sea, of the ice and the darkling floe;
The Maid has seen the starving crew, she has viewed the drowning boat,
And her eyes are dim, and her face is cold, for she hears the rattling throat.
But hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”
You can always hear them laffin, while the cutting blizzards sigh.
Oh! Hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”
The little penguins all bob low as the Misty Maid goes by.
And the snowy owl, with his wintry cowl, sighs a song of bitter woe,
While the narwhal swims, and the musk-ox grins, at the crushing ice-pack flow,