The Vowed Skipper

The boat comes round the bay,
It's sail down out the way,
With nothing left to play.

The Skipper coming from the sea,
Loses most his glee,
For the water is where he wants to be.

Have you seen the sky,
Rolling by,
Drawing out his sigh?

Growing thunder rolls,
As if God would tell him no,
And so to land he goes.

But through and through,
The sea makes him true,
For his love so blue.