For all of my coastie dad's wisdom
My summers spent learning to sail
My affinity for swimming since I was three
The countless snorkeling trips
The hours spent in canoes and kayaks
The trips paddle boarding and whitewater rafting
Somehow
I'm still petrified
By the rushing numbered current
Of a digital stream

I met a salty sailor,
Smokin' a pipe on a Boston Whaler
He said, "Boy do you know...
If a Coastie dies, where does he go?"
"He goes to Davy Jones!
But don't worry,
He's not alone!"
The salty sailor cleared his throat,
Then pushed me hard off his boat.
There I sank beneath the waves,
The white caps pushed me to my grave.
There I was in the locker,
Davy said, "report to muster!"
Then I saw my BMC,
He said, "boy come drink with me!"
We were all without a bother,
Drinking and fightin with each other!