I Must Down To The Seas Again, To The Lonely Sea And The Sky, And All I Ask Is A Tall Ship And A Star To Steer Her By, And The Wheel'S Kick And The Wind'S Song And The White Sail'S Shaking, And A Gray Mist On The Sea'S Face, And A Gray Dawn Breaking. I Must Go Down To The Seas Again, For The Call Of The Running Tide Is A Wild Call And A Clear Call That May Not Be Denied; And All I Ask Is A Windy Day With The White Clouds Flying, And The Flung Spray And The Blown Spume, And The Sea-Gulls Crying. I Must Go Down To The Seas Again, To The Vagrant Gypsy Life, To The Gull'S Way And The Whale'S Way, Where The Wind'S Like A Whetted Knife; And All I Ask Is A Merry Yarn From A Laughing Fellow-Rover, And Quiet Sleep And A Sweet Dream When The Long Trick'S Over.