When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre,
He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea;
An' what he thought 'e might require,
'E went an' took—the same as me!

Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat, Just parted from the shore,
And to the fisher's chorus-note, Soft moves the dipping oar!

It was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wintry sea;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.

Every boat is copied from another boat... Let’s reason as follows in the manner of Darwin. It is clear that a very badly made boat will end up at the bottom after one or two voyages, and thus never be copied... One could then say, with complete rigor, that it is the sea herself who fashions the boats, choosing those which function and destroying the others.

Whoever embarks with a woman embarks with a storm; but they are themselves the safety boats.

Give me a spirit that on this life's rough sea
Loves t' have his sails fill'd with a lusty wind,
Even till his sail-yards tremble, his masts crack,
And his rapt ship run on her side so low
That she drinks water, and her keel plows air.

Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up and down again!
There's no discharge in the war!

O you recall the song ya used to sing-a-long,
Shifting the river-trade on that ol' steamer,
Life is but a dream!

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

For me, my craft is sailing on,
Through mists to-day, clear seas anon.
Whate’er the final harbor be
’T is good to sail upon the sea!

I'm on a boat, motherfucker, take a look at me,
Straight floating on a boat on the deep blue sea (yeah, yeah).
Busting five knots, wind whipping out my coat,
You can't stop me, motherfucker, 'cause I'm on a boat.

The daughter of a captain on the rolling seas,
She would stare across the water from the trees.
Last time he was home he held her on his knees
And said the next time they would sail away just where they pleased.

A chieftain to the Highlands bound
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry!"

I always say that a girl never really looks as well as she does on board a steamship, or even a yacht.