Transatlantic A Salty Dog
(brooker / reid)
'all hands on deck, we've run afloat!' I heard the
captain cry
'explore the ship, replace the cook: let no one leave
alive!'
Across the straits, around the horn: how far can sailors
fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course, and no one left
alive
We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home
to die
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our
captain's eye
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all
We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship
to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears
of joy
Now many moons and many junes have passed since we made
land
A salty dog, this seaman's log: your witness my own hand
