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Whips and lace, torn sheets what a disgrace.
Yellow curtains hung from dusty windows.
Cobbs rolling back and forth with each roll of the boat.
Captain lost his pipe, his wife, his life.

Crumping along the wharf, hard salt spraying.
It sits on his beard, heavy, weighting.
Bringing the chin down low, thoughtful.
The bass rumbles, exciting old memories.
Rode the storm once before.
And He will Ride again.

The ocean parts before his cutter.
Arms wide, letting her have its way with the waves.
The mouth drips greedy with saliva and rum.
While the captain fires wildly into the night.
Hell of a smoking gun.
The eyes snap open, he's been drinking again.
No mate listened to the story, caution tossed to the wind.
They weighed anchor and pushed the slip.
Now into the briny deep they slip.

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