A girl what's born for hangin' ain't likely to be drowned.

Ah Padriac. I have often wondered if boys who have flaming red hair up top also have...yep.

A girl what's born for hangin' ain't likely to be drowned.

I warn't never meant to be a lady, I know that now. I got streaks of wildness in me that trip me up every time, and just like streaks in clothes, there's some dirt that just won't wash out.

I close my eyes, hoping to slip into the same dream again, but then that never happens, does it?

The sun in on the harbor, love, And I wish I could remain, For I know it will be some long, long time, Before I see you again.

And if that is the Foremast, what do you think that sail might be called, Mr. Wheeler?" "The Foresail?" "Very good, Mr. Wheeler, and the next one up would be called..." ..."The Next Sail, Sir?" "Alas, no, Mr. Wheeler.