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             I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and sky, 
            And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, 
            And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's a-shaking, 
            A grey mist on the sea's face, a grey dawn a-breaking. 
             
            I must go down to the sea again, for the call of the running tide 
            Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; 
            And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds a-flying, 
            The flung spray and the blown spume, the sea-gulls a-crying. 
             
            I must down to the sea again, to the vagrant gypsy life, 
            To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife; 
            And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover 
            And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick is over. 
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