To Set Sail
My ship's full, I'm setting sail again.
Soon, sea shanties will soak the salty air
as waves lick my bow and stern,
and sharks peek at my keel.
A parrot or two for colour, that will
keep me maties in voice
until someone calls "Island, ho!"
and the boat starts to tilt with the weight
of jubilant men. O, when that happens,
how will I convince them to steer clear?
No one needs the shore, not for long.
Maybe the offer of a few doubloons and some rum,
or that shameful curse of "Landlubbers!" Hmm.
Sometimes I'd like to shipwreck them all;
that'd give them their fucking fix of dry land.