So, this poem is late, (which I understand earns me hosting duties for June.) It is not what I want it to be, but then, this is just a game, right? Right? So I am resigning myself to coming in last in every sense of the word.
I knew a seaman once, an ancient chap;
Laconic, but, with prompting he would tell
Of ports, and girls (as every sailor will,)
Strange cargoes, favorite ships, or storms at sea.
One evening, late, (and he was in his cups)
Out poured a story that I'd never heard:
"She was a beauty, was my ship, the Dawn.
And we were all a crew of volunteers.
A royal ship! The captains name was Drin
(Or so we called him --never to his face!)
At any rate, the day that I signed on
They said there might be perils, and there were!
But marvels too, both fair and evil. When
We'd sailed so far the water was not deep
Enough to float us, one brave soul --
A talking mouse (those were quite common, then.) --
Launched out his tiny craft, and paddled on.
We turned for home. Ah, this was long ago..."
The sailor's voice by then had sunk quite low
And I can not be sure what else he said,
But, were I pressed, then I would quote him thus:
"I wish I could have traveled on with him."
Question: How far east have you been?