Friday, 9 October 2009
when a poet isn't where he's supposed to be!
'Well,' said Horace,'I had a little bit of trouble with the second stanza because I couldn't find anything to rhyme with thermometer, but it worked out rather well in the end.'
'Excellent!' replied Captain Bill.
'I think,' continued Horace rather shyly, 'I think Norma liked it...she said it made her feel much better.'
'Wonderful!' said Captain Bill, 'It's just...and don't take this the wrong way...it's just, when I asked you if you had anything to report I was expecting something a bit more...well...nautical!'
'Nautical?' asked Horace.
'Mmm,' replied Captain Bill, 'you know, ships spotted from the top of the mast, vast new islands on the horizon, a big sign saying 'This Way', that sort of thing.'
'But the poem was about Norma!' explained Horace.
'Of course,' said Captain Bill, 'my mistake!'
'Is that all then?' asked Horace, who was keen to get along.
'Suppose so!' replied Captain Bill, 'I assume Bertha was quite happy to be back where she belongs?'
'Bertha?' asked Horace.
'When you came down from being on watch,' replied Captain Bill, 'I presume you got Bertha to ...go.......back.....up....there's nobody up there is there?'
'Should there be?' asked Horace.
But by then Captain Bill was stampeding towards the front of the ship.