Hark!
Where the beach is black
& there is fierce and foul weather
When the bowline is slack
The southerly speaks…

Is this the treasure you seek?
Then scramble you must from shore to peak
Escarpment or beaten track will lead you there
To the site from which threats of the sea become clear

Is this the stronghold of a white faced sheep?
Nā Rangitane tēnei pā i whakatū?
Bring no spade, for no treasure is buried
Merely three figures in the shadows, waiting to be ferried

But what, pray tell to do next?
A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.
Nā reira, kia tūpoto e hika!
For all of your work no dinner allowed
Just a pint of ale with a good shanty crowd