hurrah for the salt

when I smell the briny sea
I start walking with a rolling gait
as though I was a sailor-man
with a boat beneath my feet

hurrah hurrah for the sea and the tar
hurrah for the able seaman
hurrah hurrah there’s rum in the jar
and hurrah for the salt I’m breathing

when I come near the fish-laden air
I start testing the breeze for squalls
as though I held a wheel in my hands
and all hands a-waiting my call

when I hear the white gulls cry
beneath my feet I feel the planking
as though I stood on a deck worn smooth
by storm-wash and wave-spanking

when I cast my eye over harbored boats
I hear the ropes and wires singing
and I feel as though there’s sea in my veins
with a fair wind in my rigging

so hurrah hurrah for the rum in my jar
hurrah for the waters green I’m dreaming
hurrah hurrah for the sea and the tar
and hurrah for the salt hurrah


© Frank Prem, 2009

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