This poem was e-mailed to me by a friend who had been sent it by another friend, and so on, in the manner of a chain letter. I imagine a lot of sailors will already have seen it, having received it in a similar way. It struck a chord with me, and I am sure it will with others, too, so just in case anyone has yet to enjoy it, I decided to put it on The MainSail.
The poem was traced back to the Eventide Owners' Group website, www.eventides.org.uk
- “the largest Maurice Griffiths website in the world.” All traditional boat enthusiasts will find a wealth of useful information and plenty of other interesting stuff on this relatively new but rapidly growing and much visited site.
Webmaster John Williams gave us his blessing to reproduce the (to the best of his knowledge anonymous) poem.
Apologies to John Masefield
I must go down to the sea again, in a modern high-tech boat,
And all I ask is electric, for comfort while afloat,
And alternators, and solar panels, and generators going,
And deep cycle batteries with many amperes flowing.
I must go down to the sea again, to the autopilot's ways,
And all I ask is a GPS, and a radar, and displays,
And a cell phone, and a weather fax, and a shortwave radio,
And compact disks, computer games and TV videos.
I must go down to the sea again, with a freezer full of steaks,
And all I ask is a microwave, and a blender for milkshakes,
And a water-maker, air-conditioner, hot water in the sink,
And e-mail and a VHF to see what my buddies think.
I must go down to the sea again, with power-furling sails,
And chart displays of all the seas, and a bullhorn for loud hails,
And motors pulling anchor chains, and push-button sheets,
And programs which take full charge of tacking during beats.
I must go down to the sea again, and not leave friends behind,
And so they never get seasick we'll use the web online,
And all I ask is an Internet with satellites over me,
And beaming all the data up, my friends sail virtually.
I must go down to the sea again, record the humpback whales,
Compute until I decipher their language and their tales,
And learn to sing in harmony, converse beneath the waves,
And befriend the gentle giants as my synthesizer plays.
I must go down to the sea again, with RAM in gigabytes,
And teraflops of processing for hobbies that I like,
And software suiting all my wants, seated at my console,
And pushing on the buttons which give me complete control.
I must go down to the sea again, my concept seems quite sound,
But when I simulate this boat, some problems I have found.
The cost is astronomical, repairs will never stop,
Instead of going sailing, I'll be shackled to the dock.
I must go down to the sea again, how can I get away?
Must I be locked in low-tech boats until my dying day?
Is there no cure for my complaint, no technologic fix?
Oh, I fear this electric fever is a habit I can't kick.
