I’d rather be the ship that sails And ride the billows wild and free; Than be the ship that always failed To leave its port and go to sea. I’d rather feel the sting of strife, Where gales are born and tempests roar; Than settle down to useless life And rot in drydock on the shore. I’d rather fight some mighty wave With honor in supreme command; And fill at last a well-earned grave Than die in ease upon the sand. I’d rather live where sea storms blow And be the ship that always failed To make the ports where it would go, Than be the ship that never sailed.