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BLIMEY THE LIMEY
BLIMEY THE LIMEY
Blimey the limey on the bounding main in Spain;
He on a frigate in a book all tallow eyed;
Let the tall taled sailor read from gospel feigned.
What starboard man halyard tied to spar
Roams with drinking wings the air borne foams;
Finds succor in the distance from firth and quay;
Loves no nest made from the rude red tree;
Rides the widened visions from the mist and spray;
He is likened to a rankled multifarious god
Who delivers the mysterious seas to mothers
Whose wombs only know how to lap up mud
Cries issueless from lips of aborted blood.
He has the roof of the world as a cupola home;
And cloud’s big breast over each country’s port;
He is loved by nymphs and undines that abound
Blimey the limey he does it all for sport.
