| Humor Poetry
posted December 17, 2013 |
Chapters: |
3 4 -5- 6...
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Cheezel meets an old flame
A chapter in the book Cheezel the Weasel
Cheezel at the Pirates' Convention
(Continued from the previous chapter, Cheezel Gets an Invitation.)
Now, what would you do, if you boarded a train
Full of ordinary people, quite normal and sane,
And there in the corner, with eye-patch and sword,
Sat a weaselly pirate? Good gracious! Good Lord!
Would you run for the exit or call the police?
Would you hide 'neath the skirts of a fat lady's niece?
Or perhaps you'd smile sweetly and graciously bid
A good-day to the fellow - well, that's what I did;
For I knew him at once, I remembered his name,
It was Cheezel the Weasel, a chap of some fame
As a scoffer of rabbits, a rascal, rapscallion
And looter of many a schooner and galleon.
So soon we were chatting, the weasel and me,
While he spun a fine yarn of his exploits at sea;
Of the captains he'd conquered, the booty he'd plundered
While cannons to left of him, right of him, thundered.
And in no time it seemed we'd pulled up at the station,
Blackpool-By-The-Sea our agreed destination.
"My friend," chortled Cheezel, "it's now my intention
To smuggle you into the Pirates' Convention."
Right here in my sea-chest's an eye-patch to spare
And Penzance the Parrot whom we could both share.
If you swagger like me and you practise the lingo,
You'll pass as the peerless Diablo Domingo.
In a trice it is done, the deception all suits,
I'm disguised as Diablo, bandana to boots.
I can 'Arrr' with the best of 'em, swear like a docker,
Tell tales of escaping from Davy Jones' Locker.
With Penzance perched proudly upon my right shoulder,
I believe I'm a pirate; I'm bigger, I'm bolder.
No more hesitations, no begging your pardons,
We're off to our venue, the famed Winter Gardens.
And there in the lobby a brouhaha grew,
A turmoil, a tumult, cacophony stew,
A clamour and chaos, confusion, commotion,
More pirates than ever had sailed on the ocean
Had ventured to Blackpool, all fired up, fanatical,
To celebrate everything vaguely piratical.
And Cheezel undoubtedly shone as the star,
With the fanciest eye-patch, the heartiest 'Arrrr!'
The shiniest sword, the most talkative bird;
"Avast there! Belay ye!" like you've never heard.
He cussed all the bell-boys and kissed all the maids,
Led late night excursions on rabbit-ranch raids.
He swilled enough rum to give Blackbeard the staggers
And won every contest with cutlass and daggers;
He heckled the speakers at formal orations
And questioned their motives and orientations.
At last came the big one, the great Grand Finale,
More bizarre than the works of one Salvador Dali.
To raise extra funds for the Old Pirates' Home
Celebrities walked off the plank to the foam.
Now Kittyhawk Kate, one of Cheezel's old flames,
Had organised this and enrolled some big names.
Not least was our hero, who just could not be missed
With his blind double somersault, quadruple twist.
And finally, when all the battles were won,
The victories relived and the swashbuckling done,
At midnight, by moonlight, down on the North Pier,
Strolled Kittyhawk Kate with her fine buccaneer.
But alas, I can't tell you just what they discussed,
Or whether he kissed her in love or in lust,
For Diablo Domingo, the Don of the Deep,
Had curled up in his bunk and gone right off to sleep.
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You've never heard of a Pirates' Convention? The Crew at Saturday Night Live have - watch their skit here with special guest, Peter SaarghsGarrrghd...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7aM_HWMdj0
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