Seven Men sat in a boat. Trying so hard to stay afloat. Some would steer, some would ride. Some would argue with the tide. Destiny’s hand will guide them though, and their arrival to land could be so slow.
Hans Peter sat on his hands, eyes alert he sees no sand.
Concern and caution goes unsaid, while Ernie Steel just looks ahead.
Wilbur Plunked, he watches the moon, knowing the tune, will be gone too soon.
Steven Snit, was in a fix, squirmed and fidget to call it quits. But his words are hollow and his sorrow was a fit.
Wilbur Moss hangs on for dear. The flotation loss is bought to fear. So he looks and looks as he hangs to hear. A lear so dear, of land so near.
Wallace Buell need some fuel. He’s sick and lost and lives so cruel.
Big Lim Mason sat still and true. Not a waiver not a clue. He’s sitten so tall.