She leaned her head against the cool wall. No water today, it seemed, but there was enough damp in the air, thank goodness…

A pale hand reached out and up through the single, tiny window, fog gently swirling around it like the soft song winding through the air. 

“Farewell and adieu to you, Stormwind ladies

Farewell and adieu to you, dear ladies outland

For we’ve received orders to sail for Kul Tiras

We hope in a short time to see you again

We will rant and we’ll roar like true’Tiran sailors

We’ll rant and we’ll roar all on the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Bay of Boralus

From Dagor to Tradewinds ’tis thirty-five leagues

We hove our ship to with the wind from sou’west, boys

We hove our ship to, for to strike soundings clear

It’s forty-five fathoms, with a white sandy bottom

We squared our main yard and up channel did steer


Now the first land we sighted, twas called the Strand

Next Shrine o’the Storm, Cut, Daelin and Cove

We sailed on by Waycrest, by Roughneck, and Anglepoint

And then we bore up for old Boralus’ light


Then the signal was given for the grand fleet to anchor

And all in the Sound that night for to lie

Let go your shank painter, likewise your stopper

Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly


Now let ev’ry man drink off his full bumper

And let ev’ry gal toss off her full glass

We’ll sing and be jolly and drown melancholy

And here’s to the health of each true-hearted lad


Author Wallaroo
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