I’m relieing on the ship,
That will float into the harbour,
Bearing a letter from Pip,
She moves so fast she’s a blur,
In 1850 we didn’t have technology,
We needed the mighty tall ships,
We had to tackle the mighty seas,
Just to deliver news from Pips.
And when they dock on the piers,
Awaiting is kids and parents,
Clapping and shouting cheers,
This is how it was once.