Sooner a Matador Than a Commodore

It was in Historic Forcados, Where I’d first touched Pride of Barbados: I’d run into A Talking Salvador Long arguing with Unshaken Ricardo, Whose interest were in Stark Bravado, His body partly building with Mamador … Bravado-Loving and Preaching Ricardo Would sooner he became A Matador Than A-Many-Times-Decorated Commodore, This proclaiming in a corridor, Where on display, besides Mamador, Were nourishing-seeming tomato And as nourishing-seeming pimento. “If you were a Commodore For all your sung bravado, You wouldn’t last with A True Bull! Even energized and you were full! You wouldn’t assert you had The Beast won Between A healthy and Sickly one …” A Commodore’s strength is his ship Plus the holstered pistol on his hip, No frightening neck muscle sticking out When chooses he to ‘MARINERS!’ shout.