I’d rather be the ship that sails
and rides the billows wild and free
Than to be the ship that always fails
to leave its port and go to sea,
I’d rather feel the sting of strife,
where gales are born and tempests roar
than to settle down to useless life
and rot in dry dock on the shore,
I’d rather fight some mighty wave
with honor and supreme command
and fill at last a well-earned grave,
than to die in ease upon the sand.
I’d rather drive where sea storms blow,
and be the ship that always failed
to make the ports where it would go,
than to be the ship that never sailed.