There was a young sailor....

MrG_2

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There was a young sailor from Scotland,
Who sailed the southern coast.
He’d sail hither and thither,
And NEVER would he boast.

There was a young sailor from Scotland,
Who sailed the Western Lochs
He’d sail hither and thither,
And never hit the rocks.

There was a young sailor from Devon,
Who sailed the southern bays,
He’d sail hither and thither,
And never get in stays.

There was a young sailor from Bristol,
Who sailed the channel wide
He’d sail hither and thither,
And never miss the tide.

There was a young sailor from Hamble,
Who liked to motor her boat
She’d sail hither and thither,
And never would she gloat.

There was a young sailor from Burnham,
Who loved the ditches and creeks,
He’d sail hither and thither,
Of riches he would speak.
 
I must go down to the sea again, in a modern high-tech boat,
And all I ask is electric, for comfort while afloat,
And alternators, and solar panels, and generators going,
And deep-cycle batteries with many amperes flowing.

I must go down to the sea again, to the autopilot's ways,
And all I ask is a GPS, and a radar, and displays,
And a cell phone, and a weatherfax, and a shortwave radio,
And compact disks, computer games, and TV videos.

I must go down to the sea again, with a freezer full of steaks,
And all I ask is a microwave, and a blender for milkshakes,
And a watermaker, air-conditioner, hot water in the sink,
And e-mail and a VHF to see what my buddies think.

I must go down to the sea again, with power-furling sails,
And chart displays of all the seas, and a bullhorn for loud hails,
And motors pulling anchor chains, and push-button sheets,
And programs that take full control of tacking during beats.

I must go down to the sea again, and not leave friends behind,
And so they never get seasick we'll use the Web on-line,
And all I ask is an Internet with satellites over me,
And beaming all the data up, my friends sail virtually.

I must go down to the sea again, record the humpback whales,
Compute until I decipher their language and their tales,
And learn to sing in harmony, converse beneath the waves,
And befriend the gentle giants as my synthesizer plays.

I must go down to the seas again, with RAM in gigabytes,
And teraflops of processing for hobbies that I like,
And software suiting all my wants, seated at my console,
And pushing on the buttons that give me complete control.

I must go down to the sea again, my concept seems quite sound,
But when I simulate this boat, some problems I have found:
The cost is astronomical, repairs will never stop,
Instead of going sailing I'll be shackled to the dock.
 
There was an old sailor from Melfort did beat
Who when passing through Cuan encountered the Cleit
His shame and remorse cost his trousers of course
As he bared both his heart and his seat


- Anon
 
There wiz an auld geezer called Mark
Who sailed off down to Sark
The weather was rough
but the boat was tough
and needed to be cos he crossed the lower heads in the dark
 
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