The Leaky Teaky (For Ben and Frank)

I cork my leaden verse in crystal glass,

set it adrift, to see if it will sink,

litter the sea with anchors cast en masse,

ink bottles, all around, but none to drink.

My words displace a spoon and weigh a log.

Before I’d cut the ballast, I would drown.

My captain, with his high-proof jug of grog,

is gonna ride the Leaky Teaky down.

I love my ship! I love its threadbare sail!

I know its busted rudder and its helm!

I love its hull! For all the bilge I bail,

my vessel, you have yet to overwhelm.

It was my uncle’s ship, his father’s ‘fore.

You’ll kiss its aft, and stroke its single oar.