I’d rather be the ship that sails,
and rides the billows wild and free;
Than to be the ship that always fails
to leave its port and go to sea.
I’d rather feel the sting strife,
where gales are born and tempests roar;
Than to settle down to useless life
and rot in dry dock on the shore.
I'd rather fight some mighty wave
with honor in supreme command;
And fill at last a well-earned grave,
than die in ease upon the sand.
I'd rather drive where sea-storms blow,
and be the ship that always failed
To make the ports where it would go
than be the ship that never sailed.