Rolling in deep blue, she roars against the mighty waves.
The bow pounds hard, and she is left shivering untill stern.
You never read it wrong, she is not afraid.
Ears filled with groaning wind, and seahorses going mad.
She is full ahead, not a mile to move.
I look through the screen, as it pours from the skies.
Wish me luck! Wish me life!
Calm seas , passing showers and a gentle breeze, had they been, how would it have been?
Lot to sea is still left down, shipping seas on the bow.
Strongest of storms she has rode, may it be carrying heaviest of the loads.
Trust me she is stronger, many such battles she has won.
Hold for a while, blow your horn!
Wind will drop and sea will be mirthful.
that’s the time you set sail! Miles to go…