Sailor’s Pleasure

When the time comes, as it will, that I go to sea no longer - Though maybe, please the Lord, that day’ll not be yet - I don’t want to forget the years when I was younger The way a lot of old men seem to forget. I want to have it all there as plain as writing, To keep and turn over again in my mind - All the work and play, the fun and the fighting, And maybe a woman or two that was kind. I want to recall my shipmates and the look of their faces, Folk I like or didn’t, afloat and ashore, And the loveliness of ships and the queerness of foreign places; Io want to think about them after I see them no more. I want to remember it all - like some fellow hauling his chest out For a spell of sailor’s pleasure in the South-East Trade, Turning his gear, his bottled ships and the rest out, Calling to mind how he got them or when they were made. I want to think about things like the dawn scarlet and splendid After a night of storm; the wind and the rain and the sun; Good times or bad times - what’s the odds when they’re ended? They’re all good to remember when they’re finished and done.