The storm

DANTE:
Last week we're sailing back from Cuba
cargo full of coconuts,
balsa wood and rum.
Storm springs up and powerful waves,
taller than Ferris wheels,
pound us like a drum.
And we're keeling over starboard.
Then we're pitching over port.
Then the main-sheet splits
and the rigging cuts short
so I head for the keep
and break open the rum
and I curse at the wind
and I bitch at the waves
and I yell at the storm:
"Come on and get me!"
Got no fear of the wind.
Got no fear of the waves.
"I'm ready to go!
Take me!
I'm ready to go!"
Then all the sudden
like the wind dies down
and the sea goes flat
and my crewmen ask:
"How the hell you do that?
You must be Jesus Christ
or Neptune's whore."
They ask me:
"Can you walk on water?"
I tell them:
"Sure."
My uncle is the wind
and my cousins are the stars.
How's that for family connections?
My sister is the rain
and my mother is the sky
and my father is,
my father was...
Anyway,
So now we're stranded in Biloxi.
Ton of rotten coconuts,
crew without pay.
Once I get done settlin' bus'ness
I'm gonna take my money
and quit the sea.
Stay on land.
Settle in New York.
Maybe Chicago.
I was born to my ambitions.
I have natural charisma.
I could be mayor of Chicago.
I could be anything you ask me.
I want...
I want...