Who is it now that desires the Moon br our seaborne legs in frenzied flight br amid royal swells of late afternoon br deadlights shut with woodchipped oars br another shrieking typhoon of ironball war br br All hang the dogwatch for the spiders man yowls br to carving dan tower and both heave aft br straight down the word of the nest, come right br shouts woodleg nails, cut loose the ballast br up colors, short gunners, and chancred best br br What simmering wagless nit heads stern on br full-suit to cripple we-merry grubs, br to burst us at our fresh patches then br crack our gunwhales to gullet out smartly these br dangling yards for ripe shark chum or bail br br Jack kick the low sprawlers for crimps and good luck br run turns double up for fair winded sheets br then lay on the spread so it paints just the same br for a bullet passed or bullet gained, no slack lads br to no man's land we'll be headin' back br br Dead man in the center will I sing aloud br then goad this nag over a dozen blind reefs br till our keel is stripsharp as a bluecrab claw br our split tail, bilge, in this lagoon lit squall br taken down by the sound of our envious tune br br For racktalk, rumdreams and jolly old braggarts br this rough splintered deck holds well enough br cruel waister insults a fathom deep, aye br know now, new sir of the shiny button br without sand you won't stand, by our maggot forgotten br br and we ain't seen none, since yesternoon... br br ...