I bought my love a little Boston Whaler.
I thought some time embarked might cure what ailed her.
I spent all of our savings in a mere half hour
On that gosh-darned thing, and boy, was she sour.
We took it out one lazy afternoon.
It was three months hence, and I chewed the moon.
Finally, this gosh-darned albatross
Would bat a wing, I thought.
As we neared the launch, of course, the weather turned;
Had I read the marine forecast, I would have learned
That the Goddamned drink would churn that day,
That the bastard squalls would have their way.
She said, "Come back to me when you have a clue,
When the coffer's full and the sky is blue.
'Til then, mark me, I'm gone."
I am a man who's afraid to try.
Don't ask me, I don't know why.
Why do you look so unsurprised
As you reach forth now to dry my eyes?
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