As I sit in my stuffy old study
And swelter in summer's red glow
I think of the sea, and it's quite clear to me
That there is the way I should go.
To slip out to sea where it's breezy and free
On a yacht or a cruiser maybe
Perhaps I will sail on a skiff or a scow
Or a punt, or a little dinghy.
Perchance there'd be room on a lugger at Broome
Just diving and searching for pearls
Or a leisurely haul on a very small yawl
Down the coast with a smart crew of girls.
There's a three masted schooner in Eden
Which leaves on the night tide for Sweden.
The cool northern clime, mid the fiords and pine
Would suit me just fine………. for a season.
So I dream in the smog of the city
As a cigarette droops from my lips,
How I'd breath the fresh breeze of the whole seven seas
And follow my fortune………. in ships.
