'All hands on deck,
we've run afloat!'
I heard the captain cry..

'Explore the ship,
replace the cook:
let no one leave alive!'

Across the straits,
around the Horn:
how far can sailors fly?
A twisted path,
our tortured course,
and no one left alive.

We sailed for parts,
unknown to man,
where ships come home to die.

No lofty peak,
nor fortress bold,
could match our captain's eye.

Upon the seventh,
seasick day,
we made our port of call.

A sand so white,
and sea so blue,
no mortal place at all.

We fired the gun,
and burnt the mast,
and rowed from ship to the shore.

The captain cried,
we sailors wept:
our tears were tears of joy.

Now many moons,
and many Junes,
have passed since we made land.

A salty dog,
this seaman's log:

Your witness, my own hand.

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