Blow, silver wind, with a whoop from the mountains,
Strike up a tune in the ropes and the rig!
Blow, lucky breeze, come kiss the white canvas,
the anchors are up, boys, it's time for a swig.
No don't turn your backs, boys, let's face the land squarely,
watching her glimmer away in the mists.
We gave her our guts, but she fed us just barely.
We'll go where there's use for our backs and our fists! Blow, silver wind, with a sight from the mountains.
Whisper a word from the hills and the streams.
Blow, wind of sorrow, hasten the hour.
Let us be gone now. There's no time for dreams.
No, don't turn around. Pray the wind will keep blowing.
There is no returning so don't look behind.
What we have lost there is no way of knowing.
No way of knowing what we shall find... Blow, silver wind, with a song from the mountains!
Wish us God speed with a cheer from afar!
Blow, wind of hope, for your children departing.
We know what you gave us. We know who we are.
So look alive all! Feel the old ship is straining,
already she's wetting her nose in the brine.
So, look to the East where the old land is waning,
and look to the West where the new land shall shine....