I can say there is no finer beauty than a tall-ship under sail,
Her rigging a striking silhouette as the setting sun does pale,
With billowing sheets of canvas, casting shadows on the sea,
Glinting silver foam upon the waves, aquatic wonder-lust set free,
Call it a schooner or a barque, a brig or the brigantine,
With grace as they catch the wind, an outline pure and clean,
The four poster sailing ships, or the magnificent Cutty Sark,
Bringing charm to the maritime, elegance was their mark,
The first Tall-ship race in 1956, saw them sail out from Torquay,
Heading off for Lisbon, the magic flotilla embellished the sea,
It was meant as a last farewell to the clipper and sloops of war,
It's become an annual spectacle that millions watch in awe.
These many ships of yesteryear, strikingly majestic in their way,
Have been revived in all their beauty, free to sail another day,
Its a seafaring tribute to their craftsmen, a visual work of art,
Created by a cultivated mind with the feeling of a mariner's heart