A storm o’er the billows came prancing,
With thunder and flashes of light.
In a ghastly wild glare, by the landing,
A black ship came rushing along;
There a ghost in his shirt-sleeves was standing,
And howling a horrible song.
Chorus.
“Away—along! Away—along!
With trembling, your jaws on the stretch.
Away—along! I sing the song