Away up North, in the frozen sea, where the booby walrus breed, There lives a Maid, dressed all in white, who rides a snowy steed. Her eyes are blue and her tresses gold, she has cheeks of a crimson stain, On her head a helmet of dazzling hue, on her bosom a breastplate plain. _Oh! hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”_ _Oh! Hear the penguins laffin, while the cutting blizzards sigh,_ _Oh! Hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”_ _The little penguins all bob low as the Misty Maid goes by._ She’s seen the trail of Nansen, and she’s hovered o’er Peary’s head, She’s cried at the fate of Hudson, at the boat of a hundred dead, She’s watched the fires of Davis, she’s fastened the anchors of Kane, And she’s been near the tents of Franklin, by the icy wind-ripped lane. _Oh! hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”_ _Oh! Hear the penguins laffin, while the cutting blizzards sigh,_ _Oh! Hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”_ _The little penguins all bob low as the Misty Maid goes by._ Yes, the Maid is a Maid of sorrow, her cheeks with tears are dim; For the skeletons of a thousand men she’s seen on the North Pole rim. As she prances on her snow white steed she beckons to stay away, For her home is a home of frozen death—yea! pain and death alway. _But hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”_ _The penguins still are laffin while the cutting blizzards sigh;_ _You can hear them always laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”_ _The little penguins all bob low as the Misty Maid goes by._ The Maid is a girl of sadness, and the Maid is a girl of woe, For she’s Mistress of the Polar Sea, of the ice and the darkling floe; The Maid has seen the starving crew, she has viewed the drowning boat, And her eyes are dim, and her face is cold, for she hears the rattling throat. _But hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”_ _You can always hear them laffin, while the cutting blizzards sigh._ _Oh! Hear the penguins laffin, saying, “Baffin! Baffin! Baffin!”_ _The little penguins all bob low as the Misty Maid goes by._ And the snowy owl, with his wintry cowl, sighs a song of bitter woe, While the narwhal swims, and the musk-ox grins, at the crushing ice-pack flow, For the great white bear sneaks to his lair, where the little seals are lying, And out of the mist, with the moonlight kissed, a great weird song comes sighing: _Don’t_ follow the Maid of the Northland; _don’t_ gaze at her laughing eyes; For the Maid knows naught but sorrow, and naught but the ice king’s lies; _Don’t_ look at the Maid of the Polar Seas, her wand is a witch’s staff, Just stay away from the North Sea gray. _Don’t go where the penguins laugh!_ EPILOGUE EPILOGUE