THE ANCIENT MARINER

(The Wedding Guest's Version of the Affair from His
Point of View)

IT is an Ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three—

In fact he coolly took my arm—

“There was a ship," quoth he.

“Bother your ships!" said I, “is this

The time a yarn to spin?

This is a wedding, don't you see,

And I am next of kin.

“The wedding breakfast has begun,

We're hungry as can be—

Hold off! Unhand me, longshore man!"

With that his hand dropt he.

But there was something in his eye,

That made me sick and ill,

Yet forced to listen to his yarn—

The Mariner'd had his will.

While Tom and Harry went their way

I sat upon a stone—

So queer on Fanny's wedding day

Me sitting there alone!

Then he began, that Mariner,

To rove from pole to pole,

In one long-winded, lengthened-out,

Eternal rigmarole,

About a ship in which he'd sailed,

Though whither, goodness knows,

Where “ice will split with a thunder-fit,"

And every day it snows.

And then about a precious bird

Of some sort or another,

That—was such nonsense ever heard?—

Used to control the weather!

Now, at this bird the Mariner

Resolved to have a shy,

And laid it low with his cross-bow—

And then the larks! My eye!

For loss of that uncommon fowl,

They couldn't get a breeze;

And there they stuck, all out of luck,

And rotted on the seas.

The crew all died, or seemed to die,

And he was left alone

With that queer bird. You never heard

What games were carried on!

At last one day he stood and watched

The fishes in the sea,

And said, “I'm blest!" and so the ship

Was from the spell set free.

And it began to rain and blow,

And as it rained and blew,

The dead got up and worked the ship—

That was a likely crew!

However, somehow he escaped,

And got again to land,

But mad as any hatter, say,

From Cornhill to the Strand.

For he believes that certain folks

Are singled out by fate,

To whom this cock-and-bull affair

Of his he must relate.

Describing all the incidents,

And painting all the scenes,

As sailors will do in the tales

They tell to the Marines.

Confound the Ancient Mariner!

I knew I should be late;

And so it was; the wedding guests

Had all declined to wait.

Another had my place, and gave

My toast; and sister Fan

Said “'Twas a shame. What could you want

With that seafaring man?"

I felt like one that had been stunned

Through all this wrong and scorn;

A sadder and a later man

I rose the morrow morn.

Anonymous