Ooh, Ooh,
Ooh,
Ooh, Ooh,
Oh hush thee, my baby,
the night is behind us, and black are the
waters that sparkled so green.
The moon o'er the combers, looks downward to
find us at rest in the hollows that rustle be-tween
Where billow meets billow, there soft be they pillow;
The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark over take thee.
A sleep in the arms of the slow swinging seas,
A sleep in the arms of the slow swinging seas.
Ooh, Ooh,
Ooh, Ooh,
Ooh,
Ooh, Ooh,
Ooh, Ooh,
P.S.