The Ship was doomed, as doomed as could be
Adrift on Homer’s wine-dark Sea.
It could be worse, my pirate chum:
The Sea was about to turn to Rum.
For in their privateer’s treasure-horde
Was a pile of copper, and a half-magic sword,
A waterproof torch (suspiciously damp)
and what appeared to be a magic lamp.
The Ship they’d raided wasn’t that much.
Secondhand oars and sails and such.
And the treasure they guarded, you understand
Was mostly already secondhand.
There’s a knockoff tome of magical thought.
With versions of spells that are seldom taught
(Magic Missiles are hard to master
If they appear and aim straight for the caster.)
Bigby’s Crushing hand (how’s this news?)
Is supposed to squash you, not write deadly reviews.
And Magic Mouths are Magic Misses
When they won’t speak, and just want kisses.
(That’s the spellbook. Come back later.
To hear about the chopsticks, and the stuffed alligator)
Yes, indeed, the Lamp’s imbued
With a wishing Genie; and the crew are screwed.
For someone who now sleeps with fishes
Used up both the first two Wishes
And if that’s not purely unfair
The Crew must all the last wish share.
For all for one, and one divides
The stolen treasure’s rich insides
And how to share a wish? Reluctantly
The Crew agreed to all agree.
You could spend an age, or two, or ten
Wondering what these seabound men
Would chose to chose to Wish a change
(The voting did get pretty strange.)
Some wanted lives on land. And some
Thought that idea as wrong as they come.
More water, less land? Less land, more failing?
At consensus, they were failing.
Some wanted wealth and to retire
Some wanted more enemies on whom to fire
The Genie, bemused, watched and waited
Smiling at the chaos she’d created.
What could the Crew agree upon?
Such that none felt a wrong or a tease or a con?
What might an entire Pirate crew
Given one wish to decide, divide it up true?
Eyepatches snapped. Peg-legs clicked.
All agreed, and none felt tricked?
How to calculate such a difficult sum?
TURN THE ENTIRE SEA TO RUM.
This was their Wish. The Djinn did nod
And like some vengeful, drunken God
And with the tiniest, rummiest squall,
She changed the Seas to Alcohol.
That’s just the beginning (be assured)
Of a Crew of Pirates who were never bored
Who sailed everywhere with bold aplomb
(While waiting for each hangover to come.)
We’d tell you more; the tales are legion!
Of their sailing to every place and region.
And their adventures, and frequent-almost-sinking
As they sailed upon a Sea of Drinking.
But some tales must be lost to Time.
And of these Mariners exists just this rime.
Their epic ballad is among the unheards:
For they can’t keep a tune,
and they keep making up new words.
__________
