Song of the Paddlers

Dip, dip, in the brine our paddles dip, 
Dip, dip, the fins of our swimming ship! 
How the waters part, 
As on we dart; 
   Our sharp prows fly, 
   And curl on high, 
As the upright fin of the rushing shark, 
Rushing fast and far on his flying mark! 
Like him we prey; 
Like him we slay; 
   Swim on the foe, 
   Our prow a blow!

Herman Melville