Holding fast and holding hard, braced against the chilling night,
Arms are weary, hands are scarred, the Northwind offers no respite,
Creaking timber, lines pulled tight, heavy oars allowed no rest,
Forty men work through the night, with broken back and aching chest,
Determination fills our hearts, as stars guide us through the waves,
A journey plotted on our charts, across the sea to make our names,
Forty men fight through the waves, their destiny is in their hands,
Leaving their old lives behind, to forge a future in hostile lands,
A fleet of brothers westward bound, a kinship made in blood and bone,
Following the setting sun into the open sea unknown,
A flash of distant lightning calls our senses to alert,
The sail is lowered, oars are heaved with all that our men can exert,
A towering wave upon our bow throws the men into despair,
As cries of fear and trepidation carry through the icy air,
A howling gale rips through our ranks and freezes us down to our skin,
Prayers are cast into the sky, while other men, they pray within,
The vessel tips into the wind, and threatens to capsize,
We struggle to retain our oars, fear shining from our eyes,
The sky above becomes darker still as starlight is extinguished,
Raging winds bring blackened clouds to hide our way - our hope relinquished,
Lesser minds filled with regret as men wish to return home,
While others laugh and pull their oars, excitement shaking in their bones,
Riding high and crashing down, our ship is battered through the waves,
No chance of turning back around - we become the tempest's slaves,
A crack of thunder rents the air, a chorus of disharmony,
Spurring chants of bravery, the soundtrack to our odyssey