The Boat the Coxswain Steers (Coxswain)

Lyrics

You see, Reverend, it's not about the muscle. Anyone can pull an oar.
It's about the mind. The voice. The vision.
It takes a particular sort of man.
A man like me.

River Isis. Six in the morning, 1965.
Mist on the water so thick you could chew it.
Five degrees Celsius, and the wind cutting right through you.
I had the rudder strings in my hands, see? Cold and slick.
Felt every twitch of the river, every shift in the shell.
Eight great lumps of Yorkshire pudding behind me, facing the wrong way.
Couldn't see a thing but the back of the man in front.
But I could see everything.

Because I was the coxswain!
The only soul on board facing forward!
The eyes, the ears, the burning hot heart of the Eight!
They pulled, but I steered! They grunted, but I shouted!
Nine stone of pure tactical genius, that's what a coxswain is!

There's a rhythm to it. A sacred pulse.
My voice through the cox box, a crackle of command.
"Power of ten! Now! Give me everything!"
You learn to feel the boat breathe under you.
You feel the moment their spirits start to flag.
And you find the words to whip them back into a frenzy.
You make them believe they can row through a brick wall.

Because I was the coxswain!
The only soul on board facing forward!
The eyes, the ears, the burning hot heart of the Eight!
They pulled, but I steered! They grunted, but I shouted!
Nine stone of pure tactical genius, that's what a coxswain is!

And when we won... when we crossed that line a full length ahead...
The shouting dies. There's only the sound of splintered lungs and aching hearts.
And then the cheers from the bank.
And do you know what they did? As is tradition?
They threw me in the river! Bumping the cox, they called it!
The highest honor! The freezing, glorious Isis water closing over my head!
They carried me back to the boathouse on their shoulders.

Yes. The coxswain.
A vital role.
Absolutely vital.
...As you can appreciate, I'm sure.