December 7th, 2019

феолософ

Salty Dogs



“All hands on deck, we’ve run afloat”,
I heard the captain cry
“Explore the ship, replace the cook,
Let no one leave alive.”
Across the straits, around the Horn,
How far can sailors fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course
And no one left alive

We sailed for parts unknown to man
Where ships come home to die
No lofty peak nor fortress bold
Could match our captain’s eye
Upon the seventh seasick day
We made our port of call
A sand so white and sea so blue
No mortal place at all

We fired the gun, and burnt the mast
And rowed from ship to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept
Our tears were tears of joy
Now, many moons and many Junes
Have passed since we made land
A salty dog, this seaman’s log
Your witness my own hand

Procol Harum '71