Dirty Weather -

The last thing I remember was a spot of dirty weather and the captain yelling

through his beard !

The next time I saw sunlight, my face and fingers didn’t

feel right !

There was a pint of briny stowed in either ear !

Bits of boat and

sail confused a glassy sea.

Though much abused, the tempest, in the end,

had let me live !

Floating cold and dead, the captains sideboard knocked

against my head!

Inside were rum and a soaking crust of bread !

Oh!

Hey-ho for the captains sideboard !

Come evening time a reddened eye gazed down and set the seas awry !

The stirring surge revealed a thick-tongued cry !

Not alone;

a bubbling moan !

I likened it to pale-blue toes?

Just there!

A pale-blue face oer pale-blue

bones !

Oh!

Hey-ho for the corpse of Feyrac !

The semi-buoyant first-mate had expired, met a dampened fate!

But he blinked

and swam, at least, at a mortal rate.

He beckoned me, where could I run?

He asked if I knew how far hed come.

The captain had sent him up to fetch the

rum !

Oh!

Hey-ho, for the drowned are thirsty !

I wondered if a ghost could drink the ghost of rum, for the bottle tinkled

clear and empty;

I was long since done.

He waited there, I scratched my hair;

I needed rum but how and where?

I longed to cut away but hardly dared!

Old Feyracs drowned and swimming face implied the course was clear.

My fate was death at sea, and I was late.

Standing, knife in hand,

I plunged the blade into my stomach and the fount was bottled up,

as Feyrac planned

Oh !

And I went to join my Captain !