The Wind blows out of the west thou gentle Mariner a, looke to the looffe well, beware the lee still, deadly rockes doe now apeare a, look to thy tacke, let bowling goe flacke, so wee scape them and goe cleare. Tarra tan tarra stir well thy course sirra, the wind waxeth large, the sheetes doe thou vear, goe fille the canne, giue vs some beare. Ile drinke thee Ile brinks thee my mates, what cheare?
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