Gilligan wrote:
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be ;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea !
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion ;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean

Oh seagull i'm grieving to find you relieving,
Yourself on the Heart of Gold,

I presume you've good sight, and it's hard to see by this light,
That Heart of Gold is not a latrine.

God gave you the oceans for your little motions.

If you must hear a holler, go find a trawler.
Tell King I sent you his way.

Joe