There was a time,
When celestial navigation,
Was a most
Necessary art,
Those of us
Who practiced it,
Might smile,
For those who didn't,
Looked upon us,
As practitioners,
Of a nearly black art,
We kind of liked it that way,
We shot six stars morning,
And evening,
Two sun lines,
And the ever useful
Local apparent noon,
Lots to do,
Even when we had
Some crude 'lectronic aids,
Then they put those artificial stars
Up in the heavens:
GPS,
No more need for a clear sky,
No more worries about steady decks,
Worried 'bout your nav gear breaking?
Buy two or three pocket spares,
Drop your sextant?
You've got trouble,
Drop your pocket GPS?
It's got a rubber case,
And you've got two more,
Sigh,
Ocean navigation is no longer
A black art,
Not that it ever really was,
Farewell,
Old friend,
Follow my film camera,
Into the sunset.
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