Unto the surly Waves,
And whistle as I walk the green sea-furrows;
And I rough his feathery jowl
To mock the moody Owl,
And moan to fright the Coney in his burrows.
I fill the Mariner’s sails
With quick but gentle gales
Until the water wakes around his rudder;
And I tell my rattling jokes,
To the hearty old gay Oaks,