PREOCCUPATION
The captain stops and yells to me,
"Wake up there, rear rank number three!"
And then, perchance, he makes some mention
Of how I do not pay attention.
But is it my fault? No, it's you,
With your persistent eyes of blue,
That halt the flow of reason's stream
And make me dream and dream and dream,
Until the captain comes and—well,
To put it plain—he gives me Hell.