The dying breed of a once proud sea going Nation. Ships of Wood and Men of steel. Shanty Singing sailors and whistling Wind. Wind blown sails and Men stepping on. Stepping on high. Piano strings tight Sheets. Squeaking Sheaves Blocks up on high. White top waves as far as eye see. Meet clouds on Far- far away, distant Horizon line. Lashing salt spray in the air. Clouds that fly in distant pale blue sky and never pair. Dolphin dip hits dolphin striker on way down. Well under way. Homeward bound. Some sunny day. It’s on its way. Those days we thought were very hard. We are nearly home – And time to reef top gallant sails and yards.