Article Fifty

The captain struts the quarter deck, all smart in leather breeks,
And the flush of high adventure is in her girlish cheeks
As she plots her course through hazards towards uncertainty.
It’s ‘Ignore the storm a-brewing,' and it's 'Never mind the leaks!’
When it’s all aboard the ship of fools, and it’s ho! for the open sea.

We don’t know where we’re heading, but we’re hoping for the best,
Nearly half the crew is bolshy, unimpressed at being pressed,
But if we say we’d rather stay where safety is a-lee,
‘We’re leaving!’ snaps our captain, so firm and self-possessed,
For we’re setting off on the ship of fools, and oh it’s a cruel sea.

So it’s all hands to the mainsail, while the dark clouds loom aloft,
Though the maps says ‘Here be monsters’ and the going won’t be soft.
We’re told we’ll end up somewhere nice. Probably. Maybe.
But when we mentioned lifeboats, the officers just scoffed,
For we’re all adrift on the ship of fools, and what will be will be!

George Simmers

If you have any comments on this poem,  George Simmers   would be pleased to hear from you.