Ooh, ooh, ooh,
ooh, ooh...
Oh, Hush thee, my baby,
the night is behind us,
And black are the waters that sparkled so green.
The moon o'er the combers,
looks down-ward to find us,
At rest in the hollows that rustle between.
Where billow meets billow,
there soft be thy pillow;
ah, weary wee flippering curl at thy ease!
The storm shall not wake thee,
nor shark over take thee,
A-sleep in the arms
of the slow swinging seas,
alseep in the arms
of the slow swinging seas.
Ooh, ooh,
ooh, ooh, ooh,
ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.

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