Sea Sickness

I must go down to the seas again, where the billows romp and reel, So all I ask is a large ship that rides on an even keel, And a mild breeze and a broad deck with a slight list to leeward, And a clean chair in a snug nook and a nice, kind steward. I must go down to the seas again, the sport of wind and tide, As the grey wave and the green wave play leapfrog over the side. And all I ask is a glassy calm with a bone-dry scupper, A good book and a warm rug and a light, plain supper. I must go down to the seas again, though there I’m a total loss, And can’t say which is worst: the pitch, the plunge, the roll, the toss. But all I ask is a safe retreat in a bar well tended, And a soft berth and a smooth course till the long trip’s ended.