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On and on and on we glide

on an ocean without coasts nor bounds

No man has ever crossed these seas

nor revelled in their peaceful, silent sounds

It has been weeks, it has been months

since we had last seen land or isle

Had Columbus justly judged,

we should not have met Ganges but the Nile

The stars who see all from their thrones

within the vast expanse of blue

With a knowing glimpse confirm

– confirm our course is true

Westward, following parading stars overhead

Oriental gleams the silver moon

On and on man’s journey goes

through storm and calm, o’er depths and shoals

Driven by hunger, faith or fear,

wide-eyed or blind to his ever-distant goals

Shall his vessel proudly charge

and safely circumscribe yon crag?

Will he withstand the sideways pull

or succumb to fate’s adverse magnetic drag?

Never slacken must his sails,

for strive man shall and toil and ache

So on and on he ploughs yet leaves

– leaves but an evening wake

Westward, following parading stars overhead

Oriental gleams the silver moon

A continent gives birth to three,

South Sea, patient cemetery

We lose each race to Helios

to the four eyes of the Southern Cross

North-by-west, four thousand leagues,

on a course no sane man seeks

Brave new world of great misfortunes,

plagues of sharks and thieving war tunes

Westward, following parading stars overhead

Oriental gleams the silver moon

Westward, following parading stars overhead

Oriental gleams the silver moon

Westward, following parading stars overhead

Oriental aspect of the familiar moon