(Brooker Reid)
'All hands on deck, we've run afloat!' I heard the captain cry
'Explore the ship, replace the cook: let no one leave alive!'
Across the straits, around the Horn: how far can sailors fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course, and no one left alive
We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain's eye
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all
We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears of joy
Now many moons and many Junes have passed since we made land
A salty dog, this seaman's log: your witness my own hand
- :
- Real Fear
- Miscellaneous
- Survival is for Cowards
- Composed on Bicycles: Holiday Matinee Compilation, Volume 3
- Moving Mountains
- Choose Bronze
- Dot Dot Dash Something or Other Dot
- This Changes Everything
- Possiblies and Maybes
- Blessed/Cursed
- Small Brown Bike & The Casket Lottery
- 1999-12-05: Bloomington, IN, USA
- In Honor: A Compilation to Beat Cancer, Round #2
- Magnet New Music Sampler, Volume 24
- Smoke and Mirrors
- A Twenty Band Compilation
- Split
- The Door
- The Door - Single
- Slightest Indication of Change