A seafarers life

A Seafarers Life.


So, how does it go? Ship ahoy sailor boy? I was going to write
from my life at sea, of salt water and romance in tropical nights,
but I can only remember, the old seafarers, who had no other
home than the temporary shelter a cabin on a ship gave.

Ashore they stayed in boarding houses walked up and down
streets, the sporadic service of a prostitute, sitting in bars till
money got short, in a way they were old lags, institutionalized,
fearful of double-crossing people wearing shark smiles

Life had sailed them by, only with a deck under their feet
did they feel at home. There was a deep sadness about
them, a greatcoat of loneliness only love could penetrate,
but where they walked and lived there was none to be had.

So tell me old boy was it in Le Havre or in Singapore that
you met a girl you can’t get out of your mind, the one who
smiled in a way, making you feel special. Do tell us, dear boy,
and let’s pretend she was more than just another slag in a bar.