A song about a sailor on leave |
The sun shone so yellow, in a sky so blue As the sails were furled, an’ the hawsers made true. And right down the gangplank came a bow-legged swabbee A sailor on leave as he bade farewell the crew. A port in a town upon faraway sands An exotic locale for a bright-eyed young man. With a pouch full of coppers and a spring in his step Boldly made his way forth into beckoning land. His salty boots thumped upon pathways and boardwalks While merchants and longshoremen haggled and talked And the sailor cast about with a twinkling eye For fairer complexions and long golden locks. “Ahoy there young lad!” came a hail from the shadows The sailor stopped mid-stride to locate the halloos. A wizened old man called from a dimly lit shop Whilst beside on the table lay a cat in repose. “You have the look,” rasped the wrinkled old merchant “Of a lad who has seen many things in your jaunts.” “And what of it, old man?” came the stalwart reply “I’ve little time for banter, tis a lass that I want.” “Of course, boy , I saw it, from the very beginning! When you swaggered by my shop with visage so winning. But pray, come inside. I will show you such sights As will dazzle your eyes and leave you henceforth grinning.” The sailor stepped in and his eyes did travail For upon wooden shelves made fast with twine and nail Stood bottles upon bottles which lay upon their sides Holding cleverly crafted wood ships under sail. “Upon my word,” said the sailor, “I’m quite at a loss.” Then the cat jumped below and rubbed across The sailor’s blue trousers in a frenzy of purring. It was then that he noticed the cat stood upon three paws. He gazed up above and he saw rising masts And gunwales and sails and rigging made fast. The sailor then knew now that he was marooned Aboard a minisclule ship behind green corked glass. Eternally sailing the shelf where it sat The sailor was missed by his comrades for all that If ever a word to the wise could be heard Never trust a man with a three-legged cat. |