The sailor

I met a lad down Kirkby Club who swears he's been to sea.

A drowned out washed up navy seal from Blackpool pleasure beach.

Don't get me wrong he's very polite and thoughtful in his boast.

A shovel, some sand and a donkey in hand for his trip from coast to coast.

 

He continues this dreadful tale of how he nearly died. Some misfortune with a sand castle, and then his boat capsized.

"I’ve missed both goals now" my day ruined, my patience on the brink. My head a rush of adjectives for a man who speaks before he thinks.

 

Suddenly though I'm attentive, he's got me fixed this time,

"you play guitar young man?" he says, "Can you pen some lines?"

"Write me a song about a sailor.

Preferably one that comes home.

One who guides the ship to safety.

And one who doesn't die alone."

 

Suddenly his words are chocolate, some real classic treats. Stories of the good old days, like cheating on receipts. There's more to life for any sailor who sails old England's trails. A destiny, some traffic jams and who knows what might prevail.

 

His presence stood the test with me, we stayed in their til way gone 3. Past petty crime, and diamond hauls. Failed romances and epic brawls. 

I'd call on the captain, and sail on down, the most interesting man in this dead old town.