So how many of you have heard this song?

Ha! ha, my boys,
These are the joys
Of the noble and the brave;
Who love a life In the temp est's strife,
And a home on the mountain wave.

When the driving rain of the hurricane
Puts the light of the lighthouse out,
And the growing thunder sounds its gong
On the whirlwind's battle rout.

Ha! ha! do you think
That the vallent shriek?
No! no! we are bold and brave.
And we love to fight
In the wild midnight,
With the storm on the mountain wave.

Breezes that die where the greenwoods sigh,
To the landsman sweet may be,
But give to the brave the broad back wave,
And the tempest's midnight glee!

Ha! ha! the blast,
And the rocking mast,
And the seawind brisk and cold,
And the thunder's jar,
On the seas ajar,
Are the things that suit the bold.

The timbers creak, the seabirds shriek;
There's lightning in yon blast!
Hard to the leeward! mariners,
For the storm is gathering fast!

Ha! ha! to night,
Boys, we must fight;
But the winds which o'er us yell
Shall never scare
The mariner
In his winged citadel!