Nymph, nymph, what are your beads? Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them? Give them me. No. Give them me. Give them me. No. Then I will howl all night in the reeds, Lie in the mud and howl for them. Goblin, why do you love them so? They are better than stars or water, Better than voices of winds that sing, Better than any man's fair daughter, Your green glass beads on a silver ring. Hush, I stole them out of the moon. Give me your beads, I want them. No. I will howl in the deep lagoon For your green glass beads, I love them so. Give them me. Give them me. No.
The fishermen say, when your catch is done
And you’re sculling in with the tide,
You must take great care that the Sea Wolf’s share
Is tossed to him overside.
They say that the Sea Wolf rides, by day,
Unseen on the crested waves,
And the sea mists rise from his cold green eyes
When he comes from his salt sea caves.
The fishermen say, when it storms at night
And the great seas bellow and roar,
That the Sea Wolf rides on the plunging tides,
And you hear his howl at the door.
And you must throw open your door at once,
And fling your catch to the waves,
Til he drags his share to his cold sea lair,
Straight down to his salt sea caves.
Then the storm will pass, and the still stars shine,
In peace-so the fisherman say-
But the Sea Wolf waits by the cold Sea Gates
For the dawn of another day.