Kellscraft Studio, 1999
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your sail, my little boatie;
Here's the haven, still and deep,
Where the dreaming tides, in-streaming,
Up the channel creep.
See, the sunset breeze is dying;
Hark, the plover, landward flying,
Softly down the twilight crying;
Come to anchor, little boatie,
In the port of Sleep.
Far away, my little boatie,
Not for you, my little boatie,
Furl your sail, my little boatie;