[Intro: boot stomps, concertina ticking like clockwork] Eyes on sail and hands on line, Every movement right on time. Call what's needed, short and clear, Save the stories for the beer. [Three-Part Harmony] ONE BOAT! ONE BEAT! CLOCKWORK HANDS AND CLOCKWORK FEET! CALL WHAT MATTERS, TRIM YOUR SAIL! TALK IS FOR THE BLOODY RAIL! [Verse 1: gritty baritone] Helm keeps driving, trimmers trim, Tactics reads the breeze ahead. Bow keeps watch beyond the stem, Every eye knows where it's led. Puff to weather? Make the call. Traffic leeward? Tell us all. Pressure, traffic, mark or sail, Call it now, the rest's for rail. One sees something, word goes aft, Hands respond and boat stays fast. Click by click and hand by hand, Every gear knows where to land. [Chorus: strong three-part harmony] ONE BOAT! ONE BEAT! CLOCKWORK HANDS AND CLOCKWORK FEET! PUFF GETS CALLED AND TRIM RESPONDS, EVERY GEAR JUST TICKS ALONG! CALL WHAT MATTERS, SHORT AND CLEAR! SAVE THE BULLSHIT FOR THE BEER! EYES ON JOB AND HANDS ON SAIL! TALK IS FOR THE BLOODY RAIL! [Verse 2: playful, tighter rhythm] Sheet in hand but eyes astern, Watching boats of no concern. Puff rolls down, the heel comes on, Still discussing who's done wrong. Lovely boat a mile away, Fascinating, so they say. Meanwhile here beneath your feet, Someone ought to trim that sheet. [Low Harmony] Interesting tactical view. [Baritone] Is that your bloody job to do? [Low Harmony] No. [Baritone] Then perhaps your sheet misses you. [Three-Part Harmony] EYES ON JOB! HANDS ON SAIL! TALK IS FOR THE BLOODY RAIL! [Verse 3: driving] Every sailor knows a lot, Most about the job they're not. Main has thoughts on where to steer, Jib has strategy we should hear. Bow can solve the weather call, Rail knows how to trim them all. Ten opinions fill the air, Nine belong somewhere else there. There's a time to talk it through, There's a time to bloody do. When your hands are working sail, Save the grand debate for rail. [Chorus: bigger] ONE BOAT! ONE BEAT! CLOCKWORK HANDS AND CLOCKWORK FEET! CALL THE PUFF! CALL BELOW! PASS THE WORD AND LET IT GO! WORKING HANDS? THEN WATCH YOUR SAIL! HANDS ARE FREE? GET ON THE RAIL! CALL WHAT MATTERS, SHORT AND CLEAR! SAVE THE BULLSHIT FOR THE BEER! [Verse 4: rail verse, heavy stomps] Lines are clear, your work is done? Congratulations. Here's more fun. Windward rail has room for you, There's still bloody work to do. Feet outboard and shoulders wide, Move your weight to weather side. Pressure builds and heel comes on, Lean out hard and keep her strong. Nothing to pull? Don't stand and stare, We've found useful work back there. Conversation, jokes and ale? [Three-Part Harmony] SAVE 'EM FOR THE BLOODY RAIL! [Baritone] Your hands may presently be free... [Low Harmony] Your arse still works efficiently. [Three-Part Harmony] NOTHING TO PULL? GET ON THE RAIL! LEAN OUT HARD AND FIGHT THE HEEL! [Bridge: instruments strip to mechanical pulse] When it's right, the boat goes still, Not from luck, but practiced skill. Puff gets called before it lands, Trim responds through waiting hands. Traffic called, the helm stays clear, Next move ready, mark draws near. Line comes free, a hand appears, No debate and no careers. No wasted motion, nothing late, Each small movement sets the next. Click and ratchet, ease and grind, Many sailors, one damn mind. [Build: overlapping voices, increasingly precise] PUFF TO WEATHER! BOAT BELOW! PRESSURE BUILDING! ROOM TO GO! LINES ARE READY! BOW IS CLEAR! WEIGHT TO WEATHER! MARK IS NEAR! [All voices lock] TICK! TOCK! TRIM! HIKE! ONE BOAT! ONE BEAT! CLOCKWORK CREW BENEATH OUR FEET! [Verse 5: comic breakdown] Then some days the clock goes strange, Every gear wants jobs exchanged. Trimmer's watching boats go by, While the bloody telltales die. Someone sees a puff, says naught, Someone shares each passing thought. Someone's halfway through a tale... [Low Harmony] Shouldn't you be trimming sail? [Baritone] Funny how the boat goes slow When ten directors run the show. Funny how she starts to fly When every eye knows where to lie. [Final Chorus: maximum three-part harmony] ONE BOAT! ONE BEAT! CLOCKWORK HANDS AND CLOCKWORK FEET! PUFF TO WEATHER! BOAT BELOW! CALL IT ONCE AND LET IT GO! EYES ON JOB! HANDS ON SAIL! NOTHING TO PULL? GET ON THE RAIL! CALL WHAT MATTERS! SHORT AND CLEAR! SAVE THE BULLSHIT FOR THE BEER! TICK! TOCK! TRIM! HIKE! EVERY MOVE AND EVERY STRIKE! BOW TO STERN, WE NEVER FAIL, TALK IS FOR THE BLOODY RAIL! [Outro: clockwork pulse becomes smooth sailing groove] [Baritone] A good racing crew is a beautiful thing. Nobody shouting. Nobody sightseeing. Nobody holding a seminar with a loaded winch in their hand. Just the right call, the right move, at the right bloody time. [Beat] [Low Harmony] Can I tell you something funny? [Baritone] Are you trimming? [Low Harmony] No. [Baritone] Then get on the rail. [Three-Part Harmony] ONE BOAT! ONE BEAT! TALK IS FOR THE BLOODY RAIL! [End]
