A Matelot's farewell to his Tot
You soothed my nerves and warmed my
And cheered my dismal heart,
Procured my wants, obliged my whims,
And now its time to part.
Mid endless perils of the deep
And miseries untold,
You summoned sweet forgetful sleep,
Cocooned me from the cold.
Ten years ago the "Pound of
That cast its fragrant spell
About the ship, expired in grief
And "dashness" of farewell.
Though guests might find the pantry bare,
Whene'er they chose to come,
Your hospitality was there:
A tot of pusser's rum.
Two hundred years and more you filled
The storm-tossed sailor's need.
Now you've been killed by spite distilled
From jealousy and greed;
And pretty clerks with scrawny necks
Who never saw a wave,
Nor felt the spray or heaving decks,
Consign you to your grave.
Alas, however I protest
To save myself from hurt,
They tell me that it's for the best
To keep us all alert.
And so the time has come, Old Friend,
To take the final sup.
Our tears are shed, this is the end,
Goodbye, and bottoms up.