Another one from my old friend: An invalid from Albuquerque Was suddenly feeling quite perky So he screwed both his maids And his two nursing aides And the woman who made his beef jerky.
O Captain! Our fearful trip's done, Racks weather'd, and prize we sought won. The grim vessel draws near. Bells ring, people cheer, But my captain, your blood does not run.
O Captain! Rise up, hear the bell. See the flag, hear the bugle as well. Ribbon'd wreaths line the shore; 'Tis you they call for, As I cradle you, dead as you fell.
My captain is mute; pale and chill. He feels nothing; no pulse, no will. Exult, ring a bell! As I tread where he fell, My Captain, cold and dead still.
Phil: I stand up in attention, chin up, chest out, shoulders back, stomach in, in admiration of your submission! My friend keep mailing me, no source stated: There was a young lady at sea Who complained that it hurts when she’d pee "I see," said the mate, "That accounts for the state of the captain, the purser, and me."
Thanks, Marc. Here's one from Byron, which I didn't know till today (not being a big fan of poetry):
No more roving so late into night, Though our hearts still love and the moon's bright. For the soul wears the breast, Love itself must have rest. We shall not love or rove by moonlight.
No forests or mountains for me I look on such things with great glee Every wave on a shore sends me longing for more I was born by the side of the sea…