A time ashore is precious
Too precious for endless browsing
The sailor knows what he needs and gets it without fuss
So he can savor his leave
His fleeting time on this shore
His fleeting time on this shore
A sailor never knows what the next port brings
A trek in the wild or a feast at the Grand
Whatever comes finds him ready
Adapting his simple means to meet his changing needs
A sailor’s mind is precious
He has a journey to plan,
A cargo to bear, a port to reach
He must thread a path through the fog of life
Lest he loose his way
Among a maze of trinkets and dulling thrills
So, to keep a mind clear for the great passage
He culls the creeping clutter that would snare him