Black bowed, pale shipplunging through the swell
sailors in their hammocks swing
amid reeking sweatsalt smell
Black bowed, pale ship
plunging through the swell
sailors in their hammocks swing
amid reeking sweatsalt smell
nobody is at the wheel
yet the ship drives ever on
the sailors are lost in sleep
all their memories gone
perhaps one day they will arrive
at that land of myth and tale
but until that distant day
their breath will fill her sail