I want to be lighting my pipe on deck, br With my baggage safe below— br I want to be free of the crowded quay, br While the steamer’s swinging slow. br I want to be free of treachery, br And of sordid joys and griefs— br To be out of sight of the faces white, br And the waving of handkerchiefs. br I want to be making my ship-board friends, br I want to be free of the past— br I want to be laughing with kindred souls, br While the Heads are opening fast. br I want to be sailing far to-day, br On the tracks where the rovers go, br To feel the heave of the deck, and draw br The breath that the rovers know.