Run a Windward Spray
Chase the breakers out of the harbour
before the customs boat appears.
Strike the sails and tack to larboard
then comes the old familiar fear.
Will they run us, or will they gun us?
Damn these sails, catch the wind.
Spume and foam roll and spin us,
forgive us Lord for we have sinned.
Packed to the gunwales with contraband
trying to make a dishonest living.
Running close twixt rocks and strand,
not only the sea is unforgiving.
Soon we'll be in open water,
run the mizzen, strike the main.
Then, God willing, well outrun her
and run a windward spray again.
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