Logs and Shanties

Who would true sailors see
Come here to Norfolk.
We here will sailing be
Come wind, and Wood boat.
No reedbanks causing dents
Shall make us once repent
Our first insane intent
To be a Harrier.

Whoso beset us round
With dismal poridge,
Do but themselves confound
Shallower the broad is!
No cruisers can us fright;
We'll with a quantpole fight,
And we will have a right
To be a Harrier.

Strange skipper nor mad mate
Can daunt our spirit,
After a week afloat,
Shower's we'll merit.
Then jibsheets fly away,
We'll sail far, far away,
And rest not night not day,
While we are Harriers!