COME HELL AND HIGH WATER

Shiver me Mateys, the tide’s setting sail,
batten yer hatches and tremble.
Her timbers be creaking
as if they was speaking
a warning to those who would keep her assembled.

“Yo-Ho! Yo-Ho!” the storm’s kicking in,
me sea legs, they rattle and shake!
If this rig starts to failin’
there’ll be no more sailin’
heading into this hellfire would be a mistake!

Davy Jones’ locker is missing a hitch,
Moby Dick’s mother’s a cold-blooded bitch,
Come hell and high water
Each sea-farer’s daughter
had better prepare for the worse.
The ocean is callin’,
The waves keep a-fallin’
and the Wicked Seas Witch is casting her curse.
Dead men who sail never live to tell tales.

Aye, keep me feet firm as I’m standing a-stern,
Tethered to mast and to spar,
If we capsize indeed!
We’ll be octopus feed,
Leagues below water will be where we are!

Poseidon is hiding with lightning in tow,
Neptune in tune with his trident aglow,
Come hell and high water
Each sea-farer’s daughter
had better steer clear of the shore.
The ocean is callin’,
the waves keep a-fallin’,
don’t let the seas make you their whore.
Dead men who sail never live to tell tales.

 

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Written for NaPoWriMo 2013 – Day 3 – Write a Sea Chantey

 

YOUNG MASTER “B” GETS A PAPER ROUTE

Photo from http://www.shorpy.com/

“Paper, Sir?” the young man asked
the stodgy old curmudgeon,
the kind of guy with a whiskey flask,
the creepy aged fart wasn’t budgin’

“What kind of scam are you running, boy?”
the elderly gentleman wondered.
“Why, what do you mean, Sir?” the boy was coy,
for the man made a serious blunder.

“These papers you see, are the news of the day!”
the lad took the time to detail,
but the nattily dressed thought him a pest
and wanted the young boy to fail.

The headline emblazoned read, “Man on the Moon!”
and the photo depicted the same.
“I must find me a constable, boy you’re a loon!”
he called out but no officer came.

“Lies, lies, lies!” the man was heard to mumble.
“What fantastic falsehoods you’re selling!”
He reached for the papers and started to fumble
to see all the tales they were telling.

“Stock Market Crash? World War II?
Such fantasies? News of the Day?
Stalin’s Mustache? The Avian Flu?
I won’t buy this balderdash!” and the man walked away.

Young Master Buffet re-assembled his papers
and inwardly chuckled because
his “news of the day” told of future such capers,
but he never said WHICH day it was!

All of his headlines were set to occur
it was only a matter of when,
but the pages on the bottom pleased him for sure
“Warren Buffet: One of the World’s Richest Men!”

He started out small, he could envision this scene,
making more green than the world’s ever seen!

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

MIZ QUICKLY’S IMPROMTU POETRY – DAY 3 (Photos)