Birth of the Liberdade
Flags are flying
Seas are rising
Making way towards home
Weather ahead
Secure the decks
All hands look lively
Surfing through foam
Hear the rig moan
One eye on the glass
It’s still falling
Airs full of spray
Covered by grey
Lee shore ahead
Up a few points if you please
Sands are in slow motion
The lead it doesn’t lie
We’re running out of ocean
Please don’t let my good ship die