Trim the jib! Let out the leech!
The boom is coming 'round!
If the wind stay with us now
We're surely vic'try bound!
A knock! A knock! The wind's gone flat
Which blows across our bow.
I know we still can pull this off
If we don't panic now!
There's better air just up ahead --
There's rippling on the waves.
We'll lead the fleet that once we led
If this breeze just behaves.
The final boat is gaining fast;
Just hope this lift will hold!
If our luck falls we'll finish last
When all is done and told.
A boat, I see, has fallen back.
We lead it by a length!
And now that we've cut off their wind,
Their weakness is our strength.
Oh, please! Not yet! The gun went off!
Someone else got first place!
I guess we should congratulate
Whoever won the race.
There is a 'quaint' old sentiment
Which I find rather lame:
"It isn't if you win or lose;
It's how you play the game."
So I will meet you at the start
If sailing weather's fine.
And when the gun goes off, I think
You'll find your ass is mine....
This poem is dedicated to Edward P. Kearns, esquire.
A presentation of Striderweb -- http://striderweb.com/
Copyright © 1992, 2001 by Stephen Rider
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