SALT O’ THE SEA.

I love the sea, as I’ve often said, An’ I mean it, too, from my boots to my head; I love the joggle, the lurch an’ swell, I love the taste o’ the salt, an’ the smell; I love the cap’n what’s brown an’ tanned, An’ I love to roll in the yaller sand, An’ soak my soul in the heavin’ blue, An’ I love to rock in a boat, don’t you? Yes, I love the pranks o’ the handsum sea, An’ the handsum things what it sez to me; An’ I love its flash at the peep o’ day, When the sails is fillin’ an’ goin’ away; An’ I allers sez to myself, sez I, As they nose an’ dip in the mornin’ sky, “How I’d love to go!” An’ I would, ’tis true, For I love to sail in a boat, don’t you? I love the slide o’ the slantin’ deck, An’ the old blue shirt folded in at the neck; I love the slip o’ the greasy coat, An’ the feel o’ the brine on my face an’ throat, An’ the things I hears, an’ the things I see, When the skipper is drivin’ his helm hard-a-lee, Wall—I love the tune, an’ I love the view, But I don’t guess much it’s consarnin’ you. But the best of all is the smell I get, When the tides is out an’ the flats is wet; An’ I love to think when the tides come in Of the things they’s seen, in the place they’s been; An’ there ain’t no end o’ the things I’d do Ef I owned a boat, an’ I owned a crew, An’ an ile-skin coat, ’n’ a sweater, too, For I love the salt o’ the sea, don’t you?