the walloping window blind

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 hopscotch with the starboard watch

while the captain tickled the crew. and the gunner we had was apparently mad

for he stood on the cannon's tail

and fired salutes in the captain's boots

in the teeth of a 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. we all felt ill as mariners will

on a diet that's cheap and rude

and the poop deck shook when we dipped the cook

in a tub of his gluesome food. then nautical pride we laid aside

and we cast the vessel ashore

on the gulliby isles

where the poohpooh smiles

and the anagzanders roar. composed of sand was that favored land

and trimmed in cinnamon straws;

and pink and blue was the pleasing hue

of the tickletoeteasers claws. we climbed to the edge of a sandy ledge

and soared with the whistling bee

and we only stopped at four o'clock

for a pot of cinnamon tea. from dawn to dark

on rubagub bark

we fed

till we all had grown

uncommonly thin. then a boat blew in

on a wind from the torriby zone. she was stubby and square

but we didn't much care

and we cheerily put to sea. we plotted a course for the land of blue horse

due west 'cross the peppermint sea.