An Ideal Cruise in an Ideal Craft
BY WALLACE IRWIN
IT were the good ship Gentle Jane
On which we et and slept,
The tightest, safest little craft
As ever sailed, except—
Her cargo it wuz gasolene
And pitch-wood kindling light
And powder fine and turpentine
And tar and dynamite.
Our crew wuz tried and trusty men
As ever sailed the wet,
And so I had full confidence
In their discretion, yet—
The cook would dump hot, glowin’ coals
In that there gasolene,
And them there tars would smoke cigars
In the powder magazine.
“Oh, Cap,” I sez to Capting White
With reverent respect,
“Now couldn’t we in trifles be
A bit more circumspect?”
“Well I’ll be blowed!” the Capting sez
To pass the matter by.
“Unless I’m wrong ere very long
We’ll all be blowed,” sez I.
And as I croke this little joke
The sea got very rough,
The gong went clang! the hull went bang!
Our gallant ship went puff!