A spark broke the dark
His teeth held a burnt cigar
And he swigged down the last
From his old man’s flask
His hoarse voice breathed of the hard days
His hoarse voice breathed them out
A shipwright from twenty four
Scars from the timber floor
Built through the bright nights
Four summers dock side
By that winter he’d gone to war
By that winter he’d gone to war
Fare forward til you take on water
Til the sea is howling,
‘I’m sorry you’re drowning’
Til the storms give in
Learns not to throw you wagers
And the sight of home
Is that bit nearer