The Captain had a penny whistle
Which he wore around his neck
And he played it every morning
As the crew danced on the deck.
Sometimes it was a Hornpipe
Sometimes a Palais Glide
As the crew danced fore and aft
And from Port to Starboard side.
Prompt every morning
When the Bosun rang a bell,
And if he was feeling frisky
The Captain danced as well.
Sometimes on sunny mornings
The crew would stand at ease
While the Captain and a subby
Mimed a decorous strip tease.
Rain storm hail or shine
Until twenty minutes passed
When on a given signal
The crew would climb the mast
To set the sails and rigging
And get the ship under way
And so it continued
Every single day.
Two or three times a year
All the ships would meet
And the Captain and his crea
Would dance for the fleet.
It was on the good ship Venus
Which had been a ship of shame
Until the Dancing Captain'
Gave it a better name.
He became the only Admiral to wear
A penny whistle around his neck
And even in his dotage
Would dance around the deck.
Ship shape and Bristol fashion
When she was away at sea.
Oh on the good ship Venus
Such a happy place to be
On a night much like tonight, and as I stood outside my door,
I heard some sounds that set me tingling,
Much like distant church bells ringing,
A peel for help, was in their clarion,
Ringing round from Heath to town, above the ocean roar,
All who lived in this small Hamlet knew that sound from yore,
It was a knell that would be sounded,
Just before a boat was grounded,
Grounded on the rocky coastline, or the rocky shore,
Signifying danger, it was a sound you can’t ignore.
Next I saw Dan Glover running, to the lifeboat he was manning,
Then his Bosun, John, came through,
Followed by the lifeboats crew,
All in eager expectation of helping those in dire distress,
Sailing out in any weather, braving sea and, nights darkness.
It was many hours later, that these brave lads came ashore,
They had rescued three poor seamen, from a crew of four,
Yet again they’d faced that maelstrom,
All that nature’s wildness came from,
Had faced it and had won, against the odds, and nature’s law.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
Captive to the wind and season
Storms around me raged with fury
I was becalmed without reason
Oh, the wind was fickle some days
And at times it would cease to blow
Then I would meander softly
Unpropelled and no place to go
'Twas the sea and it kept me there
The domain of mermaids and whales
I was akin to Davey Jones
And belonged in seafaring tales
The wind in the mast sails afloat,
Is enough for those of us so chosen
A salty yarn of days long gone
Of a trip with a drunken bosun
Oh, I would go back to the seas
If I were of able body
All I ask's a fellow rover
And a full tankard of toddy
1-29-20
Contest: Famous Poetic Lines That Inspire
"I wandered lonely as a cloud' by William Wordsworth
Sponsor: Silent One
On a night much like tonight, and as I stood outside my door,
I heard some sounds that set me tingling,
Much like distant church bells ringing,
A peel for help, was in their clarion,
Ringing round from Heath to town, above the ocean roar,
All who lived in this small Hamlet knew that sound from yore,
It was a knell that would be sounded,
Just before a boat was grounded,
Grounded on the rocky coastline, or the rocky shore,
Signifying danger, it was a sound you can’t ignore.
Next I saw Dan Glover running, to the lifeboat he was manning,
Then his Bosun, John, came through,
Followed by the lifeboats crew,
All in eager expectation of helping those in dire distress,
Sailing out in any weather, braving sea and, nights darkness.
It was many hours later, that these brave lads came ashore,
They had rescued three poor seamen, from a crew of four,
Yet again they’d faced that maelstrom,
All that nature’s wildness came from,
Had faced it and had won, against the odds, and nature’s law.
The seagull
In the winter light she limps through
Frozen snow on the frozen ground
In the deepest night the starlight
Guides her back to the colder town
Baby, baby bunting
Mummy’s gone a ****ing
Gone to fetch a wheelie bin
To bin her baby bunting in.
I don’t want my wife to find me talking to you as if I care
Can I take you somewhere warmer?
I know somewhere I’ll take you there
How the clouds hold the snow.
Up above our heads a seagull
Flies across the storm.
Snowflakes slit his skin like razors
Next to me that bastard’s warmer.
Out on the moor where the sheep are buried
By the barn door lay the babe I carried
And the icicles are forming
And the bicycles are frozen
Down the street there goes the chosen
Up his bum there goes the bosun
And the misery and torment
Are the only things for what you’re meant
Can you pay me back what I lent
I don’t wanna get my head bent.
The trawler trails the gulls
into the harbours arms again
The seamen spill into the alleys
Waiting for the great adventure.
You are not a big bang sort of guy
A singularity of innate law
Exploding into the flaw of fatal me.
You are no Higg's bosun in a collider
With flimsy presence in a husk of time
That needs a dented space for relevance
Nothing troubles there my faith. I believe
You can fully dwell infinite you in finite me,
And I disintegrate here where faith begins.
I know this flesh is something more in worth
And meaning to the scheme of things, but logic
Has left me dried. I feel there still the me inside
The image of your presence veiled. I know
Adam's clothes was a deeper metaphor for this,
Your presence needing me to exist.