Which direction we are going.
There's no knowing where we're rowing
Or which way the river's flowing.
Is it raining? Is it snowing?
Is a hurricane a-blowing?
LOOK! Not a speck of light is showing,
So the danger must be growing.
By the fires of hell of knowing
Is the grisly reaper mowing?
Yes! The danger must be growing
For the rowers keep on rowing,
And they're certainly not showing
Any signs that they are slowing!
Those were the days.