| Oh, cruel storm | |
| Cruel sailor, cruel land | |
| They take what they'd sooner sell | |
| To some foreign land | |
| From my highest tower | |
| I see just how he stands and sways | |
| Whispered my lie | |
| There is a happy land | |
| For the weary maid | |
| Oh, splendid lady | |
| Steals time with your heels | |
| I watched your eyes fill with delights | |
| As your hounds take the wild fox down | |
| You're wicked, ugly | |
| [?] placed at your side | |
| The black thorns might be smarter | |
| But then they might be free | |
| Like darkness once more | |
| Like my sailor's home again | |
| With a vaguely cruel or kind | |
| As light bleeds from the sky | |
| I watch your heart die | |
| Cry moonbeams with my time | |
| Pass, true loves, by once more | |
| And it will be splendid |
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