Mariner's Creed

To fail the call of this mariner's whim

When the stores are in order, the sails trim

To tack along these Easterly Winds

Would boil the blood of Poseidon

To keep to the charts they've plotted for me

To lay to the coast for the spices and tea

To never strike out for the uncharted sea

Is to tempt the Queen's Luck we rely on

For if laughter is laughter when only intended

And drink good and merry when only befriended

Then I as a man have only pretended

And would rather lie dead in the ground

All hands to the sails! Look lively there, mates!

We'll leave to the gales what we don't to our fate!

Copyright 2008 by S. Thomas Kaza