Sailing

Across the salt grey sea that surrounds our island home. 

so I went to sea in '76.

A shy and nervous deckhand.

So few ports were open, but at last one night I docked.

Then worked on the tramps and the steamers, the dirty coasters, the jaunty gigs.

Till captaincy came with delusional relief.

It was still ship's biscuits and bully beef,

But at least we had lifeboats we set upon the waves.

So now I slip the anchor.

I'm free to sail once more.

I'm sailing to my home port.

I'll never sail again.