Neck Up Fatty
Plates of goulash, on the deck,
Bewitch the leaden crab
And, in its torment, on its back,
It baffles all its tribe
Searching solace with their mates
Who spurn each passing sloop
And heeding what the Captain hates:
The silent snarl of hope.
| Contributors: | Apsley, Surlaw. |
| Poem finished: | 11th January 2007 by Apsley. |