O Lovely Lily Clean, O

Man With His Burning Soul Has But An Hour Of Breath To Build A Ship Of Truth In Which His Soul May Sail- Sail On The Sea Of Death. For Death Takes Toll Of Beauty, Courage, Youth, Of All But Truth.

I Must Go Down To The Sea Again For The Call Of The Running Tide It's A Wild Call And A Clear Call That May Not Be Denied.

My Road Leads Me Seawards To The White Dipping Sails.

Oh Some Are Fond Of Spanish Wine, And Some Are Fond Of French.

Life Is A Long Headache In A Noisy Street.