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HO LANDSMEN!
Ho! landsmen, in your sheltered homes,
Of hardship what know ye,
Like us, who dwell amid the blast,
And ride the wrathful sea?
The green trees shade you from the sun,
You watch the harvests grow,
And taste the fragrance of the gale,
When the first roses blow.
You slumber long on beds of down,
In curtained chambers warm,
Lull'd only to a deeper dream
By the descending storm:
