Ode to FORTified (by Terry Thorne with apologies to John Masefield)

We must go down to the sea again, let's hope for a cloudless sky, And all we ask is a fast boat and Vicki to steer her by. With Sue's call and Jonathan's stroke, we shall not be denied; And those old Grand Dragons, with their sorry asses saggin', will bow to FORTified. Our timing's down, our technique's sound, our paddles reek with power; It may well be said, in days ahead, this was our finest hour. Paddles buried, our boat is calm, we ignore the competition; The finish line, to get there first, is our one and only mission. The starter's horn, we surge away, and set a blistering pace, And cross the line, in near record time, to Coach Ben's smiling face. With medals won we pour some rum and get a tad unsober, As we tip a few to our not-bad-crew and another fun year that's over.