How Often

Do you think, how often can I stop the rush
perhaps to sit and paint, with just a brush
Painting is such a rest its pure relaxation
Well it is for me, so often when out at sea
Then my mind transports across the divide
I remember you by my side
You wait at home, you never roam
your my rock, my anchor in the sea
Hell pile on the rush, put down my brush
Liverpool bound are we you see
I cant wait, no more to dream, must not tarry
For in our fair city we are to marry
Then to swallow the anchor is the phrase
I'm in a spin, my mind a haze
my breathing fast, my heart a crush
Why should I want to stop the rush.

From an unknown merchant seaman 1900

By Sandyman