Our Sailing Time Machine

by Richard Kelton

Perhaps it begins, when our trick at the wheel we take,
that the 20th century recedes astern with our gurgling wake.
The pulsating air has tossed into motion,
the ageless, dateless white manned ocean.
And the bow of the ship frothing white the sea,
causes our imagination to break free.
Above, the silvery moon and blazing sun,
trace the their heavenly paths as they have ever done.

What date, or even century it is, are no longer seen,
as we sail the tall ship Rose, our sailing time machine.
At night, we look up, past the billowing sails and towering spars,
to the velvet blackness pierced by the timeless, wheeling stars.
And as the ship goes sush sushing through the tunnel of the night,
tales of days gone by come back to light.
We are with the countless men before who hauled on yards like these,
driving many a similar ship o’re distant seas

Now we are bound for Cathay with spice, ginseng, and machines,
to make our fortune, with tea, porcelain, silk, and Nankeens.
Or, to Hawaii to hunt Leviathans of the deep, we haste,
for oil for lamps and Baleen to corset our Lady’s waist.
Or we are Bristol bound, with new world’s sugar, tobacco, cotton, and rum,
so to our homeport dock the eager merchants will come.
Or sail we into thunderous cannons roar,
for the honor of our country and its naval lore.

For whenever others way threaten freedom of the sea,
they must always remember, “Don’t tread on me”.
The reveries fade with the silvery dawn,
and our watch replacement comes ambling along.
And into our bunk we gratefully creep,
where the ceaseless roll and surge lulls us into welcome sleep
And even there, adventurous times gone by, arise in our dream
as we sail in the Tall Ship Rose, our sailing Time Machine.