The wind starts to blow there—the inland ocean,
When wind starts to blow there, likely commotion.

Rocks the boat, it rocks the boat. . .wavy,
Rocks the boat, might tip the boat over,
Rocks the boat, no help from the Navy,
Rocks the boat.

Ever since the voyage to Cleveland began,
They’d left the mill, then felt the rush of the wind.
And alarmed were they, unsafe is a rolling “sea.”
They’re hoping for a quiet place, to harbor peacefully.

That tub is like a ship on the ocean
That is sailing with a cargo that can’t stand the commotion.

They wish they’d not go there—the inland ocean;
When wind starts to blow there, then there’s commotion.

That rocks the boat, it rocks the boat. . .wavy,
Rocks the boat, it tips the boat over,
Rocks the boat, no help from the Navy,
Rocks the boat.

Up to then they’d sailed through many storms,
But this big one wasn’t true to the usual form.
And toward the end, they all knew that they were through—
It was a doomed ship, now that’s clear; in Detroit they boo-hoo.

Their loved ones in a ship ’neath the ocean;
The bells chimed 29 times as sign as a sign of their devotion.

When winds start to blow out on the ocean,
Might be best: forego all that commotion. . . .