Monday, October 12, 2009
Fit To Be Tied
Fit To Be Tied
—for Lewis Carroll
"Just the place for a Snarke!" the Bellman cried,
Pointing out a spot to his crew with great care
Pulling each other up to the top of each hill
With fingers entwined in each other’s pubes
"Just the place for a Snarke! I’ve said it twice—
That alone should encourage all of us, boyz!!!”
”Just the place for a Snarke! I’ve said it thrice—
What I tell you three times has got to be true!!!"
The crew was pooped including the Boots-maker
Who fashioned the loveliest Bonnets and Hoods
And the Billiard-maker whose skill was immense
Having perhaps won more than his share—
And the poor Banker, befuddled and bemused,
Having lost the whole of their cash in his care
There was also the Lobbyist, pacing on the deck,
Refusing to leave ship fearing the sneaky Snarke
The Bellman bragged, “I’ve saved us from wreck
And ruin!!!”—though none of the sailors knew how
He was one who was famed for the number of things
He forgot when he entered the Hunt for the Snarke
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
And the clothes he had bought for the trip
He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each one
But, since he forgot all about them foolishly,
They were all left behind on the beach
The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on wherever he went
With three pairs of boots—but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his very own name!!!
He would answer to "Hi!" or to any loud cry—
Such as "Fry me, baby!" or "Fritter my wig!"
To "What-you-may-call-um!" or "What’s-his-Name!"
But especially to his favorite "Thing-um-a-jig!"
While, for those who preferred a more forcible word
He had different names for these as well:
His intimate friends called him "Candle-ends"
And his enemies called him "Toasted-cheese."
His form was ungainly—his intellect small
At least that’s what the Lobbyist remarked
"But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
Is the thing that one needs hunting a Snark!"
He could joke with hyenas, returning their stare
With an impudent wag of his Beltway head
And he once played golf with Tricky Dicky—
"Just to keep up his spirits," the Mob said
He came off as a Leader but drove them all mad,
Though he was actually just an incredible dunce
The last thing the crew needed was his snide ego,
Having just one idea—getting the "Snarke"
Finally the Butcher gravely declared all was lost—
The Bellman looked scared, frightened to speak
But at length he explained, in a tremulous tone,
There was actually no such thing as a Snarke!!!
That it was all a crummy figment of his imagination,
A Lie he shamefully admitted & deeply deplored
The Butcher who happened to hear the remark—
Protested with tears in its bloodshot eyes
That not even the rapture of hunting the Snarke—
Could atone for this sudden dismal surprise!
He strongly advised that the Bellman should be
Conveyed in a separate ship and quickly sunk!!!
But the Bellman declared that he’d never agree—
With their plans to ditch him now that they knew!!!
Besides Navigation was always a difficult art—
And there was only one ship and one bell
And he feared he must really decline, for his part—
Undertaking himself for Whom the Bell Tolls
The Bellman’s best course was, no doubt, to procure
A second-hand dagger-proof coat for protection
But the Butcher advised him—to say his last words
And get ready for some Office in another world!!!
To this the Banker suggested, and offered for sale
(On moderate terms) a quickie Bailout Bargain!!!
Two excellent Policies, one Against Death and one
Against Damage From Fellow Sailors—a Bargain!!!
Yet still, even after that sorrowful day, whenever the
Butcher walked by, he looked the other way
And nobody remarked what a sad calamity—
Nor did anybody mention any Snarke For Sale!!!
Posted by pugetopolis at 7:45 PM
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