In many a folk song, one sees,
The ludicrous theme, if you please,
Of cross-dressing girls,
Having cut off their curls,
To search for their love overseas.

What follows is one such farrago,
Where she's crept on the ship with the cargo.
Here in her own words
Is the tale, quite absurd,
As related to me by young Margot.

I once went to sea in a frigate,
With the captain I soon was a big hit,
He said "Come to my cabin,
Much fun we'll be havin'
When you see the size of my spigot."

Now orders they must be obeyed,
With no chance that they'd be belayed,
So I went very nervous,
To this perveted service,
Still hoping I wouldn't get laid.

There he made me grab hold of his hawser,
While talking the while in terms coarser,
Than I'd e'er heard before
In my life on the shore,
And then started quoting from Chaucer.

The sod only wanted a wank,
For which I did truly give thanks,
As a poor cabin boy,
I was just his sex toy...
Then he told me to strip, my heart sank.

He yelled "Hey, your mizzen mast's mizzen.
This sure is so strange, so lad lizzen,
Go see seaman Stains  
And he'll take great pains,
To make you a tool for your pizzen."

He made me a dick, artificial,
Which turned out to be beneficial,
Pleasing many officials
Maritime and judicial,
As I satisfied their every wishial.

At last in the port of Genoa,
I found my love, with an old whoa,
I called him a shit,
Cut off his bowsprit,
And sailed on my warship once moa.

And so I've lived up rtill today,
My clients I'll serve either way,
So Ogg where's your cash?
Then I'll give you a flash,
Of my wonderful wooden jack-stay.


Tiddy.

 

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Last updated: Sun, 12 Sep 1999.