Out on the water, my ship treads so deep
Staring into leagues, I feel the night breezes weep
I listen for the sirens in davey jones keep
And sail for the coast with mountains steep
This old ship and I, we've been through it all
Maybe someday her hull will be in a great hall
And patrons will pay and say 'Come one, come all
to the sea-goin' vessel that beat every squall'
Her sails are getting weathered and tired from storms
But the wind sure has beat them into all kinds of forms
But they always dry out - that old sun dries and warms
And they shine out the brighter and become re-born
Under the deck, I dream of the coast
My heart longs for mountains and a swarthy outpost
A spigot of wine and potatoes and roast
But for now I'll make for due with dried berries and toast
Somedays, I think I've forgotten the shore
This bed is too small and my back's always sore
I'm wonderin' if the mountains are only folklore
I still have memories but I know I once had many more
