Tell me, my young pretty,
Where would you like to go?
The sail unfolds its wing
The breeze is coming up!
The oar is of ivory
The flag of silk
The rudder of fine gold
For ballast I have an orange
For sail, an angel's wing
For mate, a seraph.

Tell me, my young pretty, etc.

Would it be to the Baltic?
To the Pacific Ocean?
To the Isle of Java?
Our else would it be Norway
To pluck the snow flower
Or the Angsoka flower?

Tell me, my young pretty,
Where would you like to go?

Lead me, said the lass,
To the faithful shore
Where one loves forever.
--That shore, my dear,
Is hardly known at all
In the realm of love.
Where would you like to go?
The breeze is coming up!