I’d rather be the ship that sails
And ride the billows wild and free;
Than be the ship that always failed
To leave its port and go to sea.
I’d rather feel the sting of strife,
Where gales are born and tempests roar;
Than settle down to useless life
And rot in drydock on the shore.
I’d rather fight some mighty wave
With honor in [bad word] 
And fill at last a well-earned grave
Than die in ease upon the sand.
I’d rather live where sea storms blow
And be the ship that always failed
To make the ports where it would go,
Than be the ship that never sailed.