| I never use to miss the chance
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| to climb upon his knee and listen
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| to the many tales of life upon the sea.
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| We’d go sailing back on barkentines and
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| talk of things he did, tomorrow just a day away for the Captain and the Kid.
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| His world had gone from sailing ships
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| to raking mom’s back yard;
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| he never could adjust to land although
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| he tried so hard.
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| We both were growing older then and
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| wiser with our years;
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| that’s when I came to understand
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| the course his heart still steers.
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| He died about a month ago
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| while winter filled the air,
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| and though I cried, I was so proud
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| to love a man so rare.
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| He’s somewhere on the ocean now,
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| the place he ought to be;
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| with one hand on the starboard rail,
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| he’s waving back at me.
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| For the Captain and this kid. |