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I`m Sailing 
I was sailing along the coast of Greenland the sea was
 as green as empty Port Wine bottles when 
a storm struck it was a fully automatic boat I batted down
 the hatches went below fastened the seat belt and wait.
Before I knew it, I was in a tranquil bay in Portugal and made 
breakfast scrambled and bacon, but I was vaguely unhappy
everything has become so automatic that adventures of
 daring do had become an everyday occurrence the vessel 
had even found the best anchorage with 
the best view.
I sold the boat to a doctor who had dreamt a seafaring life
away from hospitals and nagging wife, as a child he had 
wanted to be a car mechanic but his parents wouldn`t hear 
about it nor his fiancé; a malcontent man who was about to 
discover the boredom on the high sea.
I bought a mule that cannot be trusted it doesn`t like people
and every morning it is a struggle to get it to move forward
when I plough my little patch of land

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