The Old Ship-Wright
The Old Ship-Wright
I’ve held the stars in the palm of my hand
And ladled the sunrise where no man has been
I’ve forged my anchors from hellish fires
And planed fine teakwood that served the Queen’s tea
But now my sun sets quicker than mice
That hide like stowaways burdened with lice
My ship has set sail on my final voyage
My trusted windlass asleep in the well
The sailor, the mill-wright, my names aplenty
I’m proudest of ship-wright
Naught trade for a two-penny
Tho’ my booms sweep my memories ‘fore and aft
My fleet of ships were built to last
08/03/10
9:37pm
Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2010
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