Bred as we among the mountains how the sailor understands
|
The divine intoxication of the first league out from land
|
Endless sea I've chosen vast and desolate it may seem
|
But it's the way we all choose to go, the idea not the dream
|
|
The sun burns me back to consciousness on the deck on which I slept
|
I don't want to get up I don't want to go though no one here's inept
|
They've all gone their separate ways, all separate ways to home
|
That's when we find out where we've gone we travelled out alone
|
|
Time is a test of trouble on this endless sea of wine
|
And only sailor knows this trouble, to each is theirs, is thine
|
The shanty's a fucking survival test that only the brutish know
|
And if I fall down into my own I won't ask you to go
|
|
'Tis only I who knows my travels all upon this endless sea
|
And my ship will never come into port lest 'tis by chaos my anarchy
|
Will be crushed and if I fall then I will let myself down go
|
I will never soon now dock at port though it's hard to get up and go
|
|
Oh well I mingle and I cluster and I fester down and sore
|
And I lay down where I end up like a wave upon the shore
|
And I scramble to get paid, but at least for what I've done and made
|
I'm not begging work of anyone no cheque it can persuade
|
|
-----------------
|
The First League Out From Land
|
The Tossers |