SAILING.

GAILY we sail, ;

With a favouring gale,
Over the bright blue sea;

The wind rushes by

As onward we fly,

And he whistles a song to me.

Away below
We see the fish go,
Whisking and twirling their tails;
And up in the sky |
The gulls fly high
As they follow the track of our sails, |

Now on a wave’s crest
‘For a moment we rest,
Then plunge in the depths below,
Then climb to the top,
For we never can stop

As onward we merrily-go.