|
|
|
A capital ship for an ocean trip, Was the Walloping Window-Blind. No gale that blew dismayed her crew, Nor troubled the captain's mind. The man at the wheel was taught to feel Contempt for the wildest blow; And it often appeared—when the weather had cleared— He had been in his bunk below. The boatswain's mate was very sedate, Yet fond of amusement too; And he played hopscotch with the starboard watch, While the captain tickled the crew. And the gunner we had was apparently mad, For he sat on the after-rail And fired salutes with the captain's boots In the teeth of the booming gale. The captain sat on the commodore's hat, And dined in a royal way, Off toasted pigs and pickles and figs And gunnery bread each day. The cook was Dutch and behaved as such, For the diet he gave the crew, Was a number of tons of hot cross-buns, Served up with sugar and glue. All nautical pride we laid aside, And we cast our vessel ashore, On the Gulliby Isles, where the Poo-Poo smiles And the Rumpletum-Bunders roar. We sat on the edge of a sandy ledge, And shot at the whistling bee: And the cinnamon bats wore waterproof hats, As they danced by the sounding sea. On Rug-gub bark, from dawn till dark, We fed, till we all had grown Uncommonly shrunk; when a Chinese junk Came in from the Torriby Zone. She was stubby and square, but we didn't much care, So we cheerily put to sea; And we left the crew of the junk to chew, The bark of the Rug-gub tree. |