At Regal Seafare’s crossing, we find drink, For ailing needs, loathsome deeds, want reprieve From sailing life’s duress, nearest brink, After seeing what the eyes scarce believe. For mired with battered care, salty stare, And tired from voyage, kempt tattered and chapped, The spirit shrill, tested will, ne’er we dare New world without seeing what we have mapped. So dock, we ought, ourselves for naught but fun As Portland Variety crowns us Kings, Anchor weighed, pleasure stayed, sated and done; We learn what yearned respite from life may bring. Life’s asail, to full avail, amid the chore With drinks well poured, King inshore, from bar adored.