Who are these men who stone wood decks,
Or mend the canvas sails.
They leave their homes and all behind,
To hunt the cursed whale.

Who are these men who scale tall masts,
That soar into the sky.
They take their orders foul or fair,
And rarely question why.

Some say these men just don't fit in,
With those who work ashore.
But something no one can deny,
They are salty to the core.

For many lives are not so much,
There's not so much to brag.
Their lives, their loves, and all they have,
Are in their duffle bag.

But remember well, these men who sail,
And the wonders that they see.
They ever seek that Holy Grail.
The Freedom of the sea.

Ian Adrian Millar