Boys and their toys!

Rub a dub dub,
Three men in a tub,
All out on a Sunday morning.

An east wind doth blow,
The race fleet do go,
On the hoot of the sailors' warning.

As they head to the mark,
A skipper does bark,
To his crew, to trim well the jib.

Then homeward they beat,
A re-arranged fleet,
To the Race Officer sat on the RIB!