There passed a weirdy time, his throat
Was parched, parody-dry
Beer would be nice, beer right on ice
Past shipshape lips to ply
He took in wetward a big belt
They winked and said, “Eye, aye!”

He might try “Denny’s on the Deck!”
For “. . .Jets”; Elton would wish
He’d guess, to dine before the mast
Fish would not be the dish

A deck, a ship in shape, the fish
It suddenly appeared
That water should be Leitmotif
In tunes to which he steered

Of boats and hake and grand ships braked
Such as the one whose rails
Were submerged beneath Gitche Gum’
Alarming how it met its doom
When wicked witch wind wails

A slew of songs he set to do
About the fated freighter
When he was through, another brew
He nursed for a thirst-sater
Then set his sights: more tunes to blight
Parody perpetrator

(But a lyrical laundry list
Was not his Fitz intention
Because the titles were, he wist*
Too manifold to mention)

Of boats that make haste, leave a wake
Rage on against a squall
Gyrate around the buoys that spin
Of nasty acts with belay pins
Grog drinking most of all

Sea, see, and fie on land and shore
That was to be the deal
Of white baleen and the sleigh ride
And a captain mad with zeal

This wettin’ waves thought to him came
He might essay a pun
Such as, the first mate wettin’ waives
Staying dry is more fun
He’s getting Tanq’d on martinis
Having secs in the sun

It’s eight or twelve that form the bars
That in some songs take place
Some get into a different gear
And slow down or up race

With back turned on the mariner crowd
He tapped the keys sans peer
And under the brandishing sun
He drenched himself with beer

He turned then to Procol Harum
Of neo-Baroque state
“A Whiter Shade of Pale” he knew
And he could ken just what to do
His digits would not wait

He conflated it with “Moby”
The tale that Melville told
That whale was white as wigged Andy**
Took Ahab’s leg below the knee
Whose loss made him more bold

White sides sliced with harpoons that came
From Ahab at least thrice
Ahab’s not won, the game is done
When he is cold as ice

Whale rams the ship, brazenly spouts
As topside is the bark
It dips and slips below the sea
Though blades had hit the mark

A title the coot conjured up
As he sipped more beer from his cup
The song’s title has six
Syllables about the shade white
The whale’s hue was similarly light
Antipodes of the Styx
But first he sidled to the bar
And settled for some dreck Lone Star
Near-water with no kicks

The title he chose for his tune
Was pleasing to his eye
"A White White Blade-Laden Whale" out he sang
[http://www.amiright.com/parody/60s/procolharum5.shtml--wouldn't link]
Out burst a mournful sigh

Then further went his jesting quest
And he tackled Nat the King
His digits on the keys were pressed
As another tune up he messed
Then “Moby Seeker” sing

’twas no cruise ship on which he sipped
And for that he gave thanks
The Concordia’s captain rammed
His into the land’s banks
And Carnival had power nil
Over the toilets spilled
Into red bags the crap was crammed
On “Triumph of the Swill”

Four or five kibitzing men
Gave a collective groan
Down went each thumb
“Those titles, dumb!’
They were heard to intone

“They’re droll, not shoddy,” said the guy
“Why do they cause ye woe?
Though ye may scold, it’s certain
With them I’m going to go.”


*Past indicative of wit: from Old English witan (to know)
**Warhol