Snowy Day Laser Sailor Blues

Bob Dylan sailing some boat that's not a Laser

Oh, the Tillerman writes his nonsense
Up and down his blog.
You'd ask him what the matter is
But you know he's such a dog.
Yet the sailors treat him kindly
And they all give him a break
But deep inside his heart
He knows he's just a fake.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Newport
With the Laser blues again?


Well Judy she's going to Mexico
With her hiking boots and her hats
Speaking to some Canadian
Who will teach her how to sail fast.
Maybe I should do a clinic
To learn those downwind moves
But I'm shoveling all this snow
And I'm running out of booze.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Newport
With the Laser blues again?


Meka tried to tell me
To stay away from the Clif Bars.
She said they're full of sugar
That will put inches on my arse.
And I said "Oh I didn't know that
But then again I don't know shit
About nutrition and diet and vitamins
And stuff that makes you fit."
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Newport
With the Laser blues again?


Petey died last week
And now he's buried in the rocks
But everybody still talks about
How badly they were shocked.
But me, I expected it to happen
I knew he'd rile the nuts
When he fought to clean  the river
And make it safe for ducks.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Newport
With the Laser blues again?


Now the fleet captain came down here
Showing videos from his GoPro
Handing out free tickets
To the Providence Boat Show
And me, I nearly got convinced
And wouldn't he have sniffed
If I had spent thirteen thousand dollars
And bought that RS100 skiff?
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Newport
With the Laser blues again?


Now the horse he looked so baffled
When I asked him why he dressed
The ladies with their fishes
And nothing on their chests.
But he cursed me when I proved it to him
Then I whispered, "Not even you can hide
You see, you're just like me
I hope you're satisfied."
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Newport
With the Laser blues again?


Now Doug, he gave me two cures
When he said, "Your sailing's such a shambles."
The one was hiking workouts
The other was sailing angles
And like a fool I mixed them
And it tangled up my mind
And now, my tacks just get uglier
And I have no sense of time.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Newport
With the Laser blues again?


Then Baydog says come see him
In his Barnegat lagoon
Where I can watch him sail for free
'Neath his New Jersey moon.
And I say, "Aw come on now
You know I sail a Laser,"
And he says, "You'd better sail a scow
And buy a fancy blazer."
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Newport
With the Laser blues again?


Now the snow lays on Thames Street
Where the frostbite madmen quaff.
They tell their lies so perfectly
I really shouldn't scoff.
And here I sit so patiently
Waiting to find out what price
You have to pay to just once
Win a race in all this ice.
Oh, Mama, is this really the end
To be stuck inside of Newport
With the Laser blues again?

Snow in Newport and nobody sailing a Laser

Apologies to Bob Dylan for mangling his lyrics.

And apologies also to Judy, Doug, Baydog, Meka Taulbee, the anonymous fleet captain of the MYC Sunfish Fleet, Pete Seeger and Joe Rouse for taking their names in vain. And thanks to them for being good sports and teaching me so much about sailing and blogging and cooking and fitness and banjo playing and how to appreciate pictures of ladies in tiny bikinis holding big fishes.