There’s no earthly way of knowing

Which direction we are going

There’s no knowing where we’re rowing

Or which way the river’s flowing

Is it raining, is it snowing?

Is a hurricane a-blowing?

Not a speck of light is showing

So the danger must be growing

Are the fires of Hell a-glowing?

Is the grisly reaper mowing?

Yes, the danger must be growing

For the rowers keep on rowing

And they’re certainly not showing

Any signs that they are slowing