A capital ship for an ocean trip
Was "The Walloping Window Blind,"
No gale that blew dismayed her crew
Or troubled the captain's mind.
The man at the wheel was taught to feel
Contempt for the wildest blow,
And it often appeared, when the weather had cleared,
That he'd been in his bunk below.

The boatswain's mate was very sedate,
Yet fond of amusement, too,
And he played hop-scotch with the starboard watch
While the captain tickled the crew.
And the gunner we had was apparently mad,
For he sat on the after-rail,
And fired salutes with the captain's boots,
In the teeth of the booming gale.

The captain sat in a commodore's hat,
And dined, in a royal way,
On toasted pigs and pickles and figs
And gummery bread, each day.

But the rest of us ate from an odious plate,
For the food that was given the crew
Was a number of tons of hot-cross buns,
Chopped up with sugar and glue.

And we all felt ill as mariners will,
On a diet that's cheap and rude,
And the deck shook when we dipped the cook
In a tub of his gruesome food.
Then nautical pride we laid aside,
And we cast the vessel ashore
On the Gulliby Isles, where the Poohpooh smiles,
And the Anagazanders roar.

Composed of sand was that favored land,
And trimmed with cinnamon straws,
And pink and blue was the pleasing hue
Of the Tickletoeteaser's claws.

And we sat on the edge of a sandy ledge
And shot at the whistling bee,
And the Binnacle-bats wore water-proof hats
As they danced in the sounding sea.

On rubagub bark, from dawn to dark,
We fed, till we all had grown
Uncommonly shrunk when a Chinese junk
Came by from the torriby zone.

She was stubby and square, but we didn't much care,
And we cheerily put to sea,
And we left the crew of the junk to chew
The bark of the rubagub tree. Writer/s: DP, NATALIE MERCHANT
Publisher: Downtown Music Publishing
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