And o’er the waste of waters flew;
And soon we touched a foreign strand
Far, far from Broek-in-Waterland!
And there, in lawful marriage rite,
We claimed the triumph of our flight;
But many a year had passed before
We touched again our native shore.
No traces of the storm were seen,
The meadows waved in brightest green!
We wept with joy once more to stand