90 Warszawska Drużyna Harcerek „Sasanki”

1.Kołysał nas zachodni wiatr,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Brzeg gdzieś za rufą został                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   I nagle ktoś jak papier zbladł.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Sztorm idzie panie bosman.

ref;                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 A bosman tylko zapiął płaszcz                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            I zaklął: Ech do czorta!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Nie daję łajbie żadnych szans,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Dziesięć w skali Buforta.

2.Z zasłony ołowianych chmur                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Ulewa spadła nagle,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Rzucało nami w górę, w dół                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 I fala zmyła żagle.

ref;                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                A bosman tylko zapiął płaszcz…

3.   O pokład znów uderzył deszcz                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      I padał już do rana;                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Diabelnie ciężki był to rejs,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Szczególnie dla bosmana.

ref;                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                A bosman tylko zapiął płaszcz                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            I zaklął: Ech do czorta!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Przedziwne czasem sny się ma,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Dziesięć w skali Buforta.