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This is the great deep-sea song that all the St. Paul seals sing when they are heading back to their beaches in the summer. It is a sort of very sad seal National Anthem.
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I met my mates in the morning (and, oh, but I am old!)
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Where roaring on the ledges the summer ground-swell rolled;
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I heard them lift the chorus that drowned the breakers' song—
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The Beaches of Lukannon—two million voices strong.
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The song of pleasant stations beside the salt lagoons,
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The song of blowing squadrons that shuffled down the dunes,
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The song of midnight dances that churned the sea to flame—
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The Beaches of Lukannon—before the sealers came!
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I met my mates in the morning (I'll never meet them more!);
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They came and went in legions that darkened all the shore.
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And o'er the foam-flecked offing as far as voice could reach
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We hailed the landing-parties and we sang them up the beach.
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The Beaches of Lukannon—the winter wheat so tall—
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The dripping, crinkled lichens, and the sea-fog drenching all!
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The platforms of our playground, all shining smooth and worn!
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The Beaches of Lukannon—the home where we were born!
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I met my mates in the morning, a broken, scattered band.
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Men shoot us in the water and club us on the land;
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Men drive us to the Salt House like silly sheep and tame,
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And still we sing Lukannon—before the sealers came.
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Wheel down, wheel down to southward; oh, Gooverooska, go!
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And tell the Deep-Sea Viceroys the story of our woe;
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Ere, empty as the shark's egg the tempest flings ashore,
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