Exile - Ketil Bjørnstad

Now the new year reviving old desires
The restless soul to open sea aspires
Where the blue peter flickers from the fore
Where the blue peter flickers from the fore
And the grimed stoker feeds the engine fires
And the grimed stoker feeds the engine fires
The tragedy of all our east is laid
On those white decks beneath the awening shade
Birth absence longing laughter love and tears
Birth absence longing laughter love and tears
And death unmaking ere the land is made
And death unmaking ere the land is made
And midnight madnesses of souls distraught
Who the cool seas call through the open port
So that the table lacks one place next morn
So that the table lacks one place next morn
And for one forenoon men forgo their sport
And for one forenoon men forgo their sport
But we the gipsies of the east but we
Waifs of the land and wastrels of the sea
Come nearer home beneath the quartered flag
Come nearer home beneath the quartered flag
Than ever home shall come to such as we
Than ever home shall come to such as we