Doves, Couples, Quarks, Exigencies
Give me the pen and invisible ink, and I'll write my life story for you
I'll tell how I grew up addicted to drink, and travelled to far Kathmandu
I'll write about Jack, he's all that I've got - his best mate just left town
And I'll show you a birthmark or two, if my knickers should chance to come down
Call me a liar and make me a bet, and I'll add to my fabulous wad
And tell of the time I hiked all through Tibet in search of a porcelain god
My jolly mate, Jack, came along for the ride, so I carried him, hill over dale
Til the town where we got in a train-riding mode;we was rid outta town on a rail
I'd had but a sip at the speakeasy there when Jack picked a fight with a Yeti
He got firmly felled to the floor with a chair by the bosomy barmaid named Betty
Then Betty and Yeti ran off to elope, and I waited for Jack to awaken
And if you think that is the end of my tale, I fear you are sadly mistaken
Coming to, Jack was sore, in and out, out and in, so I ordered a bottle of rye
We followed it up with a bottle of gin, and slowly got sloshed, Jack and I
Midway, I threw a few darts at a board, but Jack aimed at a portrait, for drama
Til the bartender came flying over the bar for the portrait was that of his mama
"Yo mama's a Yeti!" Jack yelled at the dude, as he dove for a couple of darts
The bartender thought this was awfully rude,and aimed some himself at our hearts
Now Jack, he could handle himself in a fight, but I'm a more peaceable sort
And so I decided I'd have my revenge by filing a punitive tort
When word of the brawl was bruited abroad, the lawyers were not far behind
This one smelled even better than hot-coffee fraud: it had points of assault - what a find!
Not being a fighter, I'd much rather broker some kind of financial arrangement
But Jack would have none of my tactical plan, which caused our eventual estrangement
So Jack went his own way and fought as he went; and I left him to follow that trail
When I returned home, all my money was spent, and I found myself rotting in jail
So finally I broke down and wrote to old Jack, and I told him the spot I was in
Hee soon came to visit and brought me a file, concealed in a bottle of gin
We jumped a tramp steamer once I'd filed through, and the captain'd been bribed by old Jack
He said we were headed for far Timbuktu; we vowed we would never go back
To while the time, quite against my advice, Jack would play tars at gin for their rum
I once chanced to find him tied up really nice, in a barrel they used as a drum
We were thrown overboard, and washed up ashore on an isle where the natives wore grass
As adornment, they wore bright doubloons - by the score! Yet their King eyed my buckle of brass
I made him a deal such as never was made: one buckle for piles of doubloons
Then we sewed up their galleon, and sailed to the sunset, in search of a cache of saloons
How we crossed the Pacific and made our way home is a tale for a different time
Suffice it to say that before we hit Nome we were legends of nautical crime
The boozing and birthmarks described by the press made us heroes to girls far and near
Including one 'Ginger' - who pilfered my mate when we landed that day at the pier
You may think that I haven't told all of my tale, and I guess I would have to admit
I was always afraid that the venture would fail, so I left out the juiciest bit
Which explains Kathmandu, the porcelain god, and how Jack's mate ducked out like a fink
But I promise I'll spell out that stuff in my book - have you seen that invisible ink?
Envoi
If you'd chronicle exploits of travel and drink, you'd best fill your pen with invisible ink
Contributors: | chaise, Beefy, loaf, Kansas Sam, Irene, Karin, Grayman, TG, (trad). |
Poem finished: | 18th March 2004 by Roland. |