We should have guessed.
I was never a lover of water
of fishes or mermaids or sharks
so the chances of me going sailing
were as rare as a dogfish that barks.
But for some inexplicable reason
I signed up as a member of crew
for to sail cross the endless Atlantic
that's the damage that liquor can do.
Sore beset by an evil hangover,
clinging desperate to rails for my life.
Lady Liberty smug with amusement,
entertained by this mariner's strife.
The master now shouting out orders,
the crew all responding as one,
except for the poor retching wretch
who knows not what ought to be done.
Unmasked as a non sailing sailor,
landlubbering oaf all at sea,
I can feel the white heat of their hatred
as they all want to marmalise me.
Too late to turn back and re-port me,
the voyage now full underway,
no berthing until Southern Europe
now regretting my own birthing day.
It's hard to help on a sailing ship
when you can't tie a knot in a rope
and you don't know your aft from your elbow
and the first mate has started to grope.
I tried a full day in the crow's nest
where I spotted vast stretches of sea
all the rolling and turning and churning
left me clutching the mast of dead tree.
A day in the galley then followed
epicurian gifts to bestow
on sailors fair dead from their labours
with salmonella I laid them all low.
And as I said prayers o'er their bodies
and committed remains to the sea
I was froze by the realisation
That the whole of the crew was now me.
I panicked and ran to the fo'c's'le
though I'd no real idea where it be
then I ran to side and the back and the front
and then I ran into the sea.
It was as I went down for the third time
with salt water now filling my chest
that I cursed at the ship of misfortune
waved my fist at the marie celeste.