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Smooth wood 
Worn by water and air
Never polished 
Escaped by the hands that touched it
Ropes and tackle attached streaming up towards the sails
All foreign to a land lover.
When tied at bay she seems so tame and easy to control
But set her free among the briny sea and you will see what she can bring
And bring it she will and take it with pride and gusto
For the winds were made for her sails and masts that anchor them to the deck
The seamen go about their business as though in a dance or a jig perhaps
But one not for feint of heart
They cuss and scream and talk about ones mother all in a days work
Unless of course you cross a line then there’s trouble about
In the night of the galley or the berth were there may lay trouble can find a weak man
And leave him there till day.
But it only takes a warning for each man has a job to do
And without him that means more work for the others
And less sleep between call
So they sort out their business and carry on as one must
But don’t think you can sleep the day away and not get a lump on the head
For they are watching you and you them and never in between shall a man lay his head down before his time.

Now the sea’s rolls in and o’er the bow tis time take on ones rest.  First call comes early and some men like it the best.  I prefer four bells in the wee hours of the morn’
When the rooster crows if you can imagine that at sea and the Southern Cross is high in the sky.  I’ll take my chance with the wind and the sea and see what God brings.  And I’ll swing her around and head for the China Sea if that what fancies me.
For we have been on this ship for more than five years and yet to make land for a day.
A ghost ship you may call us.  Lost at sea and never found.  But our wood is smooth and berths are clean and we never lie about love and women.  For Captain Peterson was an honest man taught us the books of the Lutherans.  But we buried him in an island town about ten years ago.  And since then I have sailed this ship to heaven and to hell.  It’s time to rest and bring her to shore but now no one wants to leave.  Our land legs are gone and the desire to walk with the weak leave us less than desire.  So shove off again and head to the seas and I’m sure the wolf of the north wind will find us.  And we will laugh and cuss till she brings us under.
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