jabberyachty
Twas brillig and the slopping seas
didst slosh and slap upon the ship
all flimsy was the fitful breeze
and the drooped sails a'dip
Beware the forecasters my friends
the lines that point, the high and low
beware the news of trading winds
while feeble vespers blow.
We sailed our spangled barques abroad
long time to reach the windward isle
while breathless fickle breeze conspires
to torture every mile.
Slip slap slip slap
the struggling sail goes taught and jerks
while grumbling in the barkys bowels
the iron mainsail works
And will we make the windward isle
of course we will my sailing friends
a frabscious day twill be we say
when we reach the other end.