This would have to be one of my first sailor songs. I mention being on line handler's (heave away, heave away) so I had to be on my first ship. And, as the title attests to, Jimmy Buffett was still a central figure in the way I looked at my travels and the way I wrote about them. It's true, James Buffett was a huge influence on me. That, and it's from the early '80s. Anyway, I wanted to share it with you. I used to be a pretty good story teller, and this is an example of that.

But before we get started good I gotta ask, Red Queenie...have those 'shrooms wore off yet?

Here goes:

Nautical Dreamer

First day of September in '79
is the day that I told all goodbye
"There's a whole world a'waiting for someone to grab it
and papa your boy's gonna try.
Tell Rhonda goodbye and make sure she don't cry
But the ocean, she's calling my name
I felt myself tremble as the sea softly rumbled
So I signed up. We're sailing at dawn."

When we shoved off that morning the ocean was stormy
the lady showed her darker side
Old bos'n he joked as he lit up a smoke
"Sure looks like we're in for a ride
Now heave away smartly, you marlin spike sailor
this lady don't give up her dead
when the voyage is over I'll teach you the ropes
In the alleys in old Trinidad."

The blue water will make you a man
and put callouses on both your hands
You can float this old tub in your own sweat and blood
and your woman just won't understand
That the ocean's your life
so you do it again and again

I turned seventeen in the South China Sea
so we passed around smuggled on rum
the captian, he knew as did most of the crew
but like good sailors, never let on
We had two months of Sunday's behind us already
If the course we had charted was true
and the weather was good, we'd hit Singapore Harbor
before even one more was through

The blue water will make you a man
and put callouses on both your hands
You can float this old tub in your own sweat and blood
and your woman just won't understand
That the ocean's your life
so you do it again and again

The journey's go by like a fast fading mem'ry
and facts get distorted with time
Storms, they get meaner. Hard times get leaner.
And the women age softly like wine.
The young, dark skinned beauty you held as a youth
she'll still hold you so close to her breast
though your skin feels like leather, your teeth have gone yellow
and now you've got hair on your chest.

They call you a crazy old sailor and tell you
the sea spray's affected your mind
it runs thick in your veins like the mud you call coffee
and keeps off the chill of the night.
And when the starboard side lookout yells, "There she is, boys!"
Let's bring this rig in 'cause we're home
The kiss of my Rhonda is still on my mind
Like a soft and melodious song

Ed

OK, well as you can see I was pretty happy with the whole sailor thing. I don't think I missed a single cliche, right down to the thick, strong mess decks coffeee. That was also the time when I had first started hitting liberty ports, back when we had lots of liberty ports and very few terrorists. I was just discovering that one of the easiest ways to meet women overseas, and to enjoy their company for a while, was simply to be an American man. They did most of the introducing, small talking and suggesting that maybe we'd be more comfortable elsewhere. Well, heck, I was only about a block down the road from high school, a time when my friends had all taken entry level jobs and commenced to working long hours for short pay, and here I was on a beach in the Philippines watching the slow, gentle rolls of the incoming tide while the young ladies came to sit by my side. Why wouldn't I think I had the best job in the world? In fact, I just couldn't imagine it got any better. (Then we went to Thailand. Then Australia. And then...and then....) Yes, the world was a truely wonderful place. Still is.

Peace, out
Ramblin' Ed