The Great Years
I've often wondered what our family would say If all our tales saw the light of day. Would they believe it of father or spouse Who sits in the corner as quiet as a mouse. This gentle old man who sits and dreams Was it really he who hatched those schemes. Who roistered and drank and played the ass And couldn't resist the sight of a lass? It was a different sort of life that we led While those ashore were tucked up in bed. We who could work for two days and nights And then run ashore 'To see the sights!' They can never know the fun and the fears Of those boisterous, early, fun-filled years. When our sense of worth was second to none And we'd many miles of the race to run. We who scorned those tied to the shore, Who sit and think on those days of yore; We've Finished With Engines, shut the Main Stop, Our precious memories all that we've got. But then again, there's no need to be sad, They can never erase that which we had. Though sometimes now we say it in jest We know in our hearts that we were the best.