It is an ancient mariner
that stoppeth one of forty.
The ship was clear- "We can't talk here,
come with us to the party."
The ship was clear - "Sherry or beer?"
merrily did we ride.
"Oh, this is Linda. Kiss me, dear."
We sailed upon the tide.
"What did you say your name was, sport?
Oh, I see someone I know,
but these few friends will hear your end,
while I. unwilling, go."
-Higher and higher every day,
till over the mast at noon -
The party gossip halted here,
for they heard the loud buffoon.
The oaf has paced into the room,
red as a rose is he.
Loud is his shout ere he passes out
on the pink and mauve settee.
-And now the storm-blast came, and he
was - no, I won't but thanks -
was tyrannous and strong. "One sec,
-Darling, do you still like cranks?"
"Oh, this is - I didn't catch your name -
meet Andy, it's his house."
Good day; the storm blast blew us on,
until we nearly froze.
The ice was here, the ice was there-
"Oh, have you none? Hey Joan,
a frozen beer for our sailor here."
-The ice did crack and moan.
At length did cross an albatross-
if you found yourself far south."
"Oh, I've spilt some on your pants!"
No matter, I have one on the shelf.
Oh, all right, just one more.
And I'd like to wipe my pants myself.
Perhaps you'd mop the floor?
-The albatross came through the fog.
We hailed it in God's name.
We fed it scraps, rats, bottle caps,
it scoffed them all the same.
Through sun and wind our good ship skimmed,
the bird upon the mast,
till in drunken play one damnéd day
I loosed a shotgun blast.
In a fit of pique, my spirit weak,
I brought the dreadful fate!
"Well, stands to reason - out of season.
You should have checked the date!"
And now the gale ripped through the sail
(where my blast had left a hole).
The frost came in, and for my sin
the cold was in my soul.
The air grew still, and a deathly chill
crept through me to my feet.
"Well, if you're cool, then little Julie
can provide a bit of heat!"
"You'll have to watch for Julie, mate,
she's possevive when she's full."
-She is? - well the bosun gave a yell,
and our sails began to furl.
Down beat the sun - or was it hail?
We cooked - or was it froze?
Some woman came, in a sort of frame,
Life-in-Death I s'pose.
I've lost my thread. Not beer; instead,
I might try one of those.
Ah, that's better, lips are wetter,
though then they cracked dust dry.
Where had I got? Oh, the days were hot,
and we sat fast to fry.
Then came this spectral sailing-cage
and my mates began to die!
Across the setting sun it drove
and its rays to flecks did shred.
No crew did steer, and our sudden fear
now lengthened into dread.
"A UFO! How quaint! I'd faint!
But a friend I know did not.
He took some snaps, but their radar traps
destructed every shot,
and the saucer shape he saw fly past
was just a fuzzy blot!"
Shut up! This was no UFO,
and I'll fight who says it was.
It was the Nightmare Life-in-Death,
and I know for sure because,
because I know, she told me so.
You blokes won't give a man a go.
They died, I didn't, and I think
I may have left out fac's,
but they rose all pale and helped me sail
like zombied maniacs.
"Look, Jack, can you hold it back a while?
They're putting out the supper.
This tale of fighting is most exciting,
but let's stop for a cuppa."
What fighting? But I think I'll sit
and remember how it went.
And another glass might help me pass
from gloom to merriment.
* * * *
"Is everyone gone home?" "No, one is here
out cold on the settee.
Who brought him? Well, he may's well lie
till the morning sets him free.
When he doth sit his head will split,
he'll rue that he was born.
A sadder and a wiser man
will rise tomorrow morn."