Gin and Ice
There's gin, but no tonic water,
From anchorage to harbour's not long,
With skipper Mike or mate Mark at the helm,
Back to the index
Dawn finds us swinging at anchor,
Miles of ice between us and the sea.
Surrounded by mountains of grandeur,
We wonder: will we ever be free.
The beer went a long time ago.
The skipper's retired to his quarters -
"Wake me up if it comes one to blow!"
If you look at a map or a chart,
But the ice in between is so strong,
It's hard to know where we should start.
And the rest of us manning the fenders,
We crawl through this frozen ice realm,
Looking forward to back-on-land benders.