The Old Sailors Poem
Old Sailors sit and chew the fat about how things used to be, of the
things
they've seen and the places they've been, when they ventured out to sea.
They remember friends from long ago and the times they had back then of
the
money they've spilled and the beer they've swilled in their days as
sailing
men.
Their lives are lived in days gone by with thoughts that forever last,
of
Dixie cup hats and bell bottom blues and the good times in their past.
They recall long nights with a moon so bright far out on a lonely sea
and
the thoughts they had as youthful lads when their lives were unbridled
and
free. They know so well how their hearts would swell when the flag
fluttered
proud and free and the stars and stripes made such beautiful sights as
they
plowed through an angry sea.
They talk of the bread old cookie would bake and the shrill of the
boson's
pipe, and how the salt spray fell like sparks out of hell when a storm
struck in the night. They remember mates already gone who forever hold a
spot in the stories of old when sailors were bold and lubbers were a
pitiful
lot.
They rode their ships through many a storm when the sea was showing its
might, and the mighty waves might be digging their graves as they sailed
on
through the night.
They speak of nights in a bawdy house somewhere on a foreign shore and
the
beer they'd down as they gathered around cracking jokes with a busty
whore.
Their sailing days are gone away never more will they cross the brow,
But
they have no regrets for they know they've been blessed 'cause they
honored
their sacred vow.
Their numbers grow less with each passing day as their chits in this
life
are called in, But they've nothing to lose for they've all paid their
dues
and they'll sail with their shipmates again.
I've heard them say before getting underway that there's still some
sailing
to do and they'll exclaim with a grin that their ship has come in and
the
Lord is commanding the crew.