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Wind, wind, Shrilling through the shrouds, Whirling by the foam-flakes, Scudding on the clouds,
Strain on every sail,
Homeward-speeding gale, While every creaking yard, each stitch of canvas crowds.
Wind, wind, Bend each straining mast, Drive our good ship northward Quivering through the blast;
Onward, on, to home
Sweep us through the foam ; Fast up Channel drive us, to Portsmouth drive us fast.