The ships to the westward, by night and by day,
In storm and in sunshine go forth on their way,
The big ships and little ships, swift ships and slow . . .
And Fastnet - old Fastnet - he watches 'em go.

Hull down to the westward they vanish afar,
Like the waft of a wing or the flash of a star,
A feather of smoke on the rim of the sky . . .
And Fastnet - old Fastnet - he waves 'em good-bye.

Strange stars will behold them, strange harbours will know,
Strange lights for their guiding will beacon and glow,
And they'll maybe remember and maybe forget
That Fastnet - old Fastnet - he's waiting there yet.

A-waiting the day, be it distant or soon,
When the ships from the westward, by night or by noon,
In storm or in sunshine rejoicing will come . . .
And Fastnet - old Fastnet - he'll welcome them home!