Well,I guess you may be wond'ring 'bout a weasel's habitat;
Where does a chap like Cheezel hang his fine three-cornered hat?
And the answer may surprise you, though he doesn't like to boast,
That his house is halfway floating and it's half upon the coast.
Though a liner may be finer and a clipper somewhat 'hipper',
Cheezel loves his tiny tugboat that he's called 'The Carefree Kipper'.
See the superstructure's sparkling white with grey upon the gunnel;
The hull when viewed is purple-hued, red rings adorn the funnel.
Below decks there's a galley and a hammock hung for leisure;
You might think the wily weasel had discovered buried treasure.
When the taxman grows suspicious of the luxury he's wrapped in,
Then Cheezel blithely tells him he was once a pirate captain.
On a misty, magic morning when the estuary's glist'ning
You may hear old Cheezel whistling if you happen to be list'ning.
Seated snugly on his deck-chair with his feet up on the railing,
Dreaming dreams of dauntless daring, 'cross the seven seas he's sailing.
Now I heard from Bartle Badger, who was Cheezel's latest lodger,
That he did indeed sail pirate ships and fly the Jolly Roger.
His flashing sword and dashing looks set maidens' hearts aflutter,
Opposing captains turned and fled, their courage turned to butter.
But even pirate kings have dreams of firesides and slippers,
Of rabbit stew and cocoa too, of tea and toast and kippers.
Once a raider and crusader and a treasure-hunting rover,
Now the skipper of 'The Kipper' knows his pirate days are over.
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