Trade Winds

In the harbour, in the island, in the Spanish seas,

Are the tiny white houses and the orange trees,

And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze

Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

There is the red wine, the nutty Spanish ale,

The shuffle of the dancers, and the old salt's tale,

The squeaking fiddle, and the soughing in the sail

Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

and o'nights there's the fire-flies and the yellow moon,

And in the ghostly palm trees the sleepy tune

Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon

Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.