Books

My boy, when I was young,
I, like you, was nimble, free,
Merrily, oh how I sung,
Songs of the land and sea!

As some men love the drink,
Well, books it was for me,
And in their pages I did sink,
Lost the land, sea — the free.

You see, my boy, I read,
Of feats, peril, and the like,
Lived on these hopes instead,
Of hopes of my own kind.

Now in my latter years,
I’ve woken to this fact,
It’s best to face many fears,
Than to never learn to act.

So take me to the road,
My boy, take me to the free,
Nature is the last abode,
For men such as me!

The road is my creed -
The waters – or that shore,
And with every book I read,
I learn to miss adventure more.

So take me from these books,
My boy, take me to the free,
I long but again to look,
On the windy, green sea.

Ah, to taste the salt again,
To feel the sun and the swell,
It’s a little piece of heaven,
In this little piece of hell.