Classic Poem

Up aloft amid the rigging,
Swiftly blows the favoring gale,
Strong as springtime in its blossom,
Filling out each bending sail.
And the waves we leave behind us,
Seem to murmur as they rise,
We have tarried here to bear you,
To the land you dearly prize.

Rolling home, rolling home ,
Rolling home across the sea ;
Rolling home to dear old England ,
Rolling home, dear land, to thee!

Full ten thousand miles behind us,
And a thousand miles before,
Ancient ocean waves to waft us
To the well-remembered shore.
Newborn breezes swell to send us
To our childhood's welcome skies,
To the glow of friendly faces
And the glance of loving eyes.

Rolling home, rolling home ,
Rolling home across the sea ;
Rolling home to dear old England ,
Rolling home, dear land, to thee!