作曲 : Sting/Mary Macmaster
作词 : Robert Louis Stevenson
All day we fought the tides between the 
NorthHead and the 
South,All day we hauled the frozen sheets to scape thestorm’s wet mouth,
All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain anddread,
For very life and nature we tacked from headto head.
We gave the 
South a wider berth, for there thetide-race roared;
But every tack we made we brought the 
NorthHead close aboard:
We saw the cliffs and houses and the breakersrunning high,
And the coastguard in his garden, his glassagainst his eye.
The frost was on the village roofs as white asocean foam;
The good red fi res were burning bright in every’long-shore home;
The windows sparkled clear and the chimneysvolleyed out;
And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vesselwent about.
The bells upon the church were rung with amighty jovial cheer;
For it’s just that 
I should tell you how (of all daysin the year)
This day of our adversity was blessed 
Christmasmorn,
And the house above the coastguard’s was thehouse where 
I was born.
And well I knew the talk they had, the talk thatwas of me,
Of the shadow on the household and the son thatwent to sea;
And, oh, the wicked fool 
I seemed, in every kindof way,
To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed
Christmas 
Day.