All I Ask Is A Tall Ship

Only The Road And The Dawn, The Sun, The Wind, And The Rain, And The Watch Fire Under Stars, And Sleep, And The Road Again.

So Death Obscures Your Gentle Form, So Memory Strives To Make The Darkness Bright; And, In That Heap Of Rocks, Your Body Lies, Part Of The Island Till The Planet Ends, My Gentle Comrade, Beautiful And Wise, Part Of This Crag This Bitter Surge Offends, While I, Who Pass, A Little Obscure Thing, War With This Force, And Breathe, And Am Its King.

Oh Some Are Fond Of Spanish Wine, And Some Are Fond Of French.

Quinquireme Of Nineveh From Distant Ophir, Rowing Home To Haven In Sunny Palestine, With A Cargo Of Ivory, And Apes And Peacocks, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, And Sweet White Wine.

In This Life He Laughs Longest Who Laughs Last.