The Taming of the Ocean
And I stand upon it's back
Forcing it to take me where I please.
It's a rolling, bucking beast
But l'll make her take me east;
Away I'll sail into the salty breeze.
The ocean is a briny grave
For those who misconstrue her;
She'll open up fierce frigid jaws,
Gnashing teeth will eat you whole
Drowning your body and your soul
And you will be a thing that was.
Salt water flows within the veins
Of them who brave the breakers,
Those who bathe in sea foam.
It takes a lot of seasick guts,
Brackish water to wash your cuts
And lightning storms to lead you home.
My ship will charge the surges,
My sails will hail the shores,
The riggings are my salty net
To catch a wild, racing swell
And I will rise, my strength shall quell
And all the sea shall know my threat.
And once I anchor in safe harbor
And let my white sails down,
My things will always bear the scent
Of sea-salt, brine, and wood.
Ne'er, howe'er, could I stay for good;
Unless on the sea will I be content.