"The blighter that is at the end of the sea On the pitch-black night raised itself flying; Round the vessel it flew three times, Three times it flew creaking, And said, 'Who dared pierce Into my dens that I do not reveal, My black ceilings of the end of the world?' And the helmsman said, trembling, 'His Majesty King John the Second!Whose sails are these then which I rub against? Whose the keels I see and hear?' Said the blighter, and rolled three times, Three times it rolled filthy and bulky, 'Who attempts what is solely my power, I who abide where no one ever could see me And who drip the fears of the depthless sea?' And the helmsman trembled, and said, 'His Majesty King John the Second!'Three times he raised his hands from the helm, Three times he had them rooted on the helm, And said after trembling three times, 'Here at the helm I am more than myself: I am a People who wants the sea that is yours; And more than the blighter, that my soul fears And rolls on the darkness of the end of the world, Orders the will, that ties me at the helm, Of His Majesty King John the Second!'"