Y’all that sail this jumpy, rolling ride
On a bumpy tumbling storming tide,
Shall tell of the seas, so vast and wide
And the toils that make your ship to glide.
This ride from shore of African strip
Onboard a giant floating ship,
To land so far on new world tip
Laden with air that makes them zip
The helm is manned,
The engine is revved;
Onward they go
To Land of old.
The watchmen on deck and helmsmen on bridge
Daily they wrestle with gale to the ridge.
The Storms abated and sea, calm as midge
But seamen are icy like in the fridge.
The breeze was cold and assailed their sail,
Yet they toiled on -though were frail.
The gale had stale and pains with ail
To the new world bay they must sail without a fail.
They Swing to the right
And roll to the left
Such they dance
Like reed on the prance
Did I tell of all voyagers on this bumpy trip?
For from nations far and wide they all so drip.
The old man in-charge was a brit to the hip,
A man of age, but as good as he blip.
Some are Croats, Indian and some, Philippines
Together they toil, dine and pines
But none like African can so fully dines
For they, many, were without are fines
The sky is blue
The sea is blue
And so they live
Daily on the jive.
So, like sailors on this jumpy ride,
That so bravely fights to clothe their hide
We also must strive to shine and vied
With forces that’s so against us lied
For success comes to those that fight
To reach the shore despite the plight
And who will not easily cave to the blight
For thy sleight and wright shall reward at last
Nations shall throng
With praise and gong
To the victorious,
But not the crushed.