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Eric,
herewith :
Blessings to this ship be made
And to her fortunes to be had
She sails 'pon
stormy seas
Where dollars lie and villains flee
Where Revolution stirs the air
And silver is the rightful heir.
A stout ship will withstand
The backslap of the Devil's hand
Steeled by silver and by gold
In honour of the ways of old.
The storms she faces are just paper
Just an ancient banker's caper
Old allies now reunite
To shine her seas a guiding light.
This day we commission her
For battle, not safe harbour
She will find courage, not defeat
And return home, her holds replete
…
Well, I never said I was a fuckin' poet.
David Bond
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