The screw has dissected
 

 
 a seal with a whack.

The shot isn’t expected
 

 
 if comes from the back.

The battery gunners
 

 
 have no shell reserve.

The powerful runners
 

 
 are fast on a curve.

But the sail!
 
 

 
 the sail
 

 
 
 is rent!

I repent,
 
 

 
 repent,
 

 
 
 repent!

Who craves for a battle
 

 
 may find no one foe.

It really doesn’t matter
 

 
 if aches your little toe.

To many of hopers,
 

 
 the door-hinges sing,

“Ye’ve had no good purpose,
 

 
 and aren’t welcome in!”

But the sail!
 
 

 
 the sail
 

 
 
 is rent!

I repent,
 
 

 
 repent,
 

 
 
 repent!

My praises to those
 

 
 who sing in their sleeps.

All parts of the globe
 

 
 may lie under seas,

All high and low grounds
 

 
 may burst into fire,

But I do announce,
 

 
 “It’ll never be mine!”

But the sail!
 
 

 
 the sail
 

 
 
 is rent!

I repent,
 
 

 
 repent,
 

 
 
 repent!