Parody of the Poem "the call of the Running Tide" A friend recently sent me this very funny parody on John Masefield's famous poem, The Call of the Running Tide". There is certainly an element of truth here _________________________________________________ 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 weatherfax, 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 watermaker, 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 Brian Eiland beiland@usa.net www.RunningTideYachts.com distinctive expedition yachts