Quote:
Originally Posted by Sailor Steve
Staring at the horizon and seeing nothing but water in all directions. Flying Fish. Waterspouts (tornadoes at sea). Waves so high the ship tries to bury itself. Long hours of work followed by long hours of boredom. Staring at the same handful of faces for weeks on end.
You didn't miss much.
But I sure do.
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The hell I didn't.
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At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true
When here they’ve done their duty
The bowl of grog shall still renew
And pledge to love and beauty.
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