Wind At My Back Tonight - edit3

[dukealien]

Wind At My Back Tonight


We used to laugh at soldiers who could march
in step but barely sail and wouldn’t learn–
a soldier’s breeze, we called it, they might cope
so long as it blew strong from dead astern.

There’s foul winds I have faced my entire life
and tacked a weary course to claw ahead–
nor dare I claim I always fended off
temptation of saloon or lady’s bed.

I’ve never been a sneak thief– met a few,
and beat ‘em, with my shipmates, as their due;
I fought for what we thought was right and fit
but gave ‘em quarter if they asked for it.

So with my voyage done I don’t fear death
this midnight, or my raspy final breath:
I’ll set my stuns’ls, white as angel wings
to catch a soldier’s breeze... heading home.

edit2;

We used to laugh at soldiers who could march
in step but barely sail and wouldn’t learn–
a soldier’s breeze, we called it, they might cope
so long as it blew strong from dead astern.

It’s foul winds I have faced my entire life
and tacked a weary course to claw ahead–
nor dare I claim I never steered right close
to doing wrong in port or lady’s bed.

I’ve never been a sneak thief– met a few,
and with my shipmates beat ‘em as their due;
I fought for what we thought was right and fit
but gave ‘em quarter if they asked for it.

So with my voyage done I don’t fear death
this midnight, or my raspy final breath:
I’ll set my stuns’ls, white as angel wings
to catch a soldier’s breeze... heading home.

edit1;

We used to laugh at soldiers who could march
in step but barely sail and wouldn’t learn–
a soldier’s breeze, we called it, they might cope
so long as it was strong and dead astern.

It’s headwinds that I’ve faced my entire life
and tacked a weary course to claw ahead:
nor ever claimed I never steered right close
to doing wrong in port or lady’s bed.

I’ve never been a sneak thief– met a few,
and with my shipmates beat ‘em as their due;
I fought for what we thought was right and fit
but gave ‘em quarter if they asked for it.

So with my voyage done I don’t fear death
this midnight with a raspy final breath:
I’ll set my stuns’ls, white as angel wings
to catch a soldier’s breeze... heading home.

original version;

I used to laugh at soldiers who could march
in step but barely sail and couldn’t learn–
a soldier’s breeze, we called it, they could cope
so long as it was strong and dead astern.

It’s headwinds that I’ve faced through all my life;
I’ve tacked a weary course to get ahead.
And I don’t claim I never steered right close
to doing wrong in port or lady’s bed.

I’ve never been a sneak thief– met a few,
and with my shipmates beat ‘em black and blue;
I fought for what we thought was right and fit
but gave ‘em quarter if they asked for it.

So with my voyage done I don’t fear death
this midnight with a final rocky breath:
I’ll set my stunsails, white as angel wings
to catch a soldier’s breeze... heading home.

Meant to be a little naive, the old salt's lamp is burning low and he rhymes and meters unreliably on faltering seal-legs.