The Pirate of the Bath
I went to bathe at ten past nine,
but everything was far from fine:
“Avast,” he said, “this tub be mine!”
the Pirate of the Bath.He arrr’d and ordered as he spoke,
“Ahoy there matey! Time to soak!”
A sorry, scurvy, shabby bloke:
the Pirate of the Bath.To my dismay – or my despair –
he beckoned me to join him there
and help him wash his nasty hair,
the Pirate of the Bath.Without hand, a hook instead,
he gestured toward his filthy head:
“It seems I’ve gots the fleas,” he said,
the Pirate of the Bath.I’d rather walk the plank, I think,
into the toilet or the sink
than help him scrub away his stink,
the Pirate of the Bath.That’s why I’ve started showering.
I’d rather do most anything
than help him with his scouring,
the Pirate of the Bath.
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That’s the funniest poem I’ve read in ages! I love walk the plank into the toilet.
Wow, that’s quite a compliment! Thank you for being a regular visitor and commenter. It means the world to me to have your support!