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PerVirtuous
March 20th, 2006, 05:58 PM
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be ;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the she!
All in a hot and copper sky,
One bloody big bafoon,
Right next to the half-mast did he stand,
a mighty big harpoon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion ;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
And no suntan lotion.


Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink ;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
A metaphor, ya think?

The first mate gets his just desserts,
my fortune is my own
to sail the seas for treasured ports
and leave again alone
but, what's that - hold the phone?
nope, false alarm, go home.