I’ll follow yon’ stream down south to the shore,
just go, with the flow, to the sea.
I’ll take myself off to hide my heart’s hurt;
become someone else ‘stead of me.
I’ll dream and deny the pain I can’t cry,
soothe soul, in my boat, by the bay.
I’ll take the high tide, lift anchor and glide,
steal stillness and stow it away.
Rub salt in my wounds and watch them all heal,
(old Sea-Dog had taught me that ruse.)
Make coastline my home, inland will not roam,
will take up again with my Muse!
I’ll sit down to read, pen poems that plead
for sinners who savaged my rhymes.
Like shells on the sand, they can’t understand.
So, I’ll not count cruelties as crimes.
And when the dawn breaks, comes casting its spell,
a new man they’ll find on the beach:
a seafaring gent, a jack-tar, content,
with heart that bad love cannot reach!