Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Further Adventures of an Irish Sea Captain

Women and children and soldiers and sailors
And even the rats have all gone
But the captain remains alone on his deck
Admiring the work that was done.

Now the ship has gone down to its final rest
I'm afloat on a raft with a sad makeshift mast
A barrel of water and a barrel of tack
A watch and a sextant to plot out my course
And to mark off the days for how long I must last.

The Polynesians did it in open canoes
And if they could do it, well so can you
Lash the sheet to the tiller
And yourself to the bow
Hide in the water by day
And by night, you row.

The stars are correct
And the current was true
There's the dark mass of land
Above the ocean's bright blue

I'm washed on the shore
Of an island unknown
And go looking for signs
Of natives or home

Not one do I find
The land is stony and dead
But there are clearings and platforms
And on the ground, great stone heads

The captain must always go down with his ship
Sounded so great way back in the day
But what does that mean for us here today
I'm alone in the middle of a big empty room
Working for six
Starting at five
And wondering why the captain
Never gets out alive.

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