every hand to an oar,
this is the doldrums
there are no winds here.

we'll have to push through with brute force--
aye, we might be leagues behind
but this ship crafts its own ****** tale.

lads... if we make it through this we'll flex our muscles
and all the ladies at port will swoon,
and bed us readily!

so push on through this windless hell,
there's no waiting for a gust of luck,
we'll starve.