WHAT can we say of the night?
The fog night, the moon night, the fog moon night last night?
  
There swept out of the sea a song.
There swept out of the sea-torn white plungers.
There came on the coast wind drive
In the spit of a driven spray,
On the boom of foam and rollers,
The cry of midnight to morning:
  Hoi-a-loa.
  Hoi-a-loa.
  Hoi-a-loa.
  
Who has loved the night more than I have?
Who has loved the fog moon night last night more than I have?
  
Out of the sea that song
  -can I ever forget it?
Out of the sea those plungers
  -can I remember anything else?
Out of the midnight morning cry: Hoi-a-loa:
  -how can I hunt any other songs now?