Upon this eighth day of Christmas
I celebrate the dawn of a new year
From high atop the midship crows nest
Of the ship John Poole out of Glasgow
Mid Atlantic waves tossing us from peak to trough
Fully redefining what I had considered as being 'tough enough'
Tough enough for this duty
Tough enough for truly
To be swayed about in this exaggerated way
High up in this perch
Watching for 'bergs
Maybe for whales
Or flotsam and debris
Big enough to poke holes in this barge
Though truth be told
I may have drawn this mostly unnecessary duty
Because as assholes go
The Captain was rather large
That and my having been intimate with his favorite scullery girl
Despite the miserable sway
And my thinking I didn't deserve to be treated this way
I sing a song of the eighth day of Christmas
With some sweet maids a milking
In the beams of the sun creeping my way
Orange in the morning on this New Years Day
No comments:
Post a Comment