All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by…
John Masefield: Sea Fever.
Crimson flames tied through my ears rollin' high and mighty traps,
pounced with fire on flaming roads using ideas as my maps.
"We'll meet on edges, soon, said I", proud 'neath heated brow.
Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.
Bob Dylan: My Back Pages.