Logs and Shanties

I must go down to the Broads again
For the call of the foaming tide
Is a wild call and a clear call
That may not be denied
And all I ask is a wood boat
And a quant to steer her by
And the yacht's way is a merry way
With all the sails shaking
For the Commy's way is to lose our way
And the wind's like a rubber knife.

I must go down to the Broads again
To the vacant Harrier's life
And all I ask is a full breeze
And the hush of the trees at night
And the wind's way and the storm-gulls' way
And the drumming of canvas on rope
And the boom's awash and the jib's away
And the crew are clinging to hope

I must go down to the broads again
To the lonely Broads and the sky
Where the boat's song and the boat's prayers
Blend with the summer's sigh
And all I ask is a quiet morning
And the sun beating down on the deck
And the dawn's gleam on the white awning
And the day rises up, unchecked:

I must go down to the Broads again
Go down for the rest of my life
For the river's long and the winds rage strong
And the lee-banks are groaning with strife
And all I ask is a true ship
And a true star to steer her by
And Love's way and the Lord's way
And the cross flying out from on high:
And all I ask is a quiet prayer
With a smiling fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and the heart's dream
When the long trick's over.

Hark the Harriers' radios shout
Poor old Roger's over and out.
Late again behold him rise
Swatting madly at the flies.
Veiled in custard, milk and tea,
'Cept for Ruth who's dairy free,
Pleased as though we are to sail
Don't forget we have to bail
Hark the Harriers' radios shout
Roger's listening, over and out.

Hail the thunder, wind and rain
This cruiser driver has no brain,
Lightening flash and thunder roar,
Who forgot to shut that drawer?
Tired we lay our quantpoles by
While the cruisers hurtle by,
Back to Hunters Yard return
Drifting sadly up the Thurne,
Hark the Harriers' radios shout
Cruise is finished, over and out.