Who, at each port, finds true love.
And though he loves each lass more than life,
In the end, �tis not enough.
For, you see, he has but one Mistress �
Neither his ship nor the ocean wild.
And he has no country, no kith and kin,
No liege, no wife and child.
Tragedy, aye, she be his lover,
And as Huntress craves the chase,
This sailor mine, he craves the yearnin�
For a different time and place.
Her sweetest smile is not for him;
Innocent, the most lustful glance.
He swoons for what�s ne�er meant to be,
Like a drowned man desires land.
So, warmed by memories of each love true,
He�ll forever sail the seas;
Searching for a Promised Land,
Which he�ll never want to reach.
� Lishesque 4:01pm 10th November 2004