Up, Sailor Boy, 'Tis Day! The West Wind Blowing, The Spring Tide Flowing, Summon Thee Hence Away. Didst Thou Not Hear Yon Soaring Swallow Sing? Chirp, Chirp,--In Every Note He Seemed To Say 'Tis Spring, 'Tis Spring. Up Boy, Away,-- Who'D Stay On Land To-Day? The Very Flowers Would From Their Bowers Delight To Wing Away! Leave Languid Youths To Pine On Silken Pillows; But Be The Billows Of The Great Deep Thine. Hark, To The Sail The Breeze Sings, "Let Us Fly;" While Soft The Sail, Replying To The Breeze, Says, With A Yielding Sigh, "Yes, Where You; Please." Up, Boy, The Wind, The Ray, The Blue Sky O'Er Thee, The Deep Before Thee, All Cry Aloud, "Away!"