A sailor's freedom

Fresh air blows o’er me dirty rags,
I shed this skin and breathe.
The captain asked me where to go,
I said I’ll take my leave.
Now, as I watch Her stern row high
and wish them all farewell,
I greet the gulls that wail above,
whose voices ebb and swell.

Oh, where am I to go? I wonder,
first time being free,
I never learnt to choose a course -
been married to the sea.
Oh, was she ever good to me,
a lass who knows her way!
For years we played, but was it love?
I fear I cannot say.

A sailor who is none no more;
what is he but a man?
And am I one - a bad at best!
Dear gods, send me a plan!
A plan to guide me through me life,
though long it will not be;
what freedom is, I cannot take,
so tell me where me fortune make,
or I’ll go back to sea.

To sea I must, for I can’t walk,
must row, until me death,
so row me boys, so row away,
until me dying breath.