UnPoetia:The Rheum of The Ancient Mariner
|   | Poetry for people who hate poetry | 
(Arranged for fiddle, accordion and albatross)
Well, we cast off for sea 
And we vittled the ship, 
It was wondrous to see 
But I’d knackered my hip 
We set off at dawn 
And the sea, she was calm 
But I stayed below decks 
‘Cause I’d knackered my arm 
Oh, the sea it is fine 
And the wages aren’t bad 
But my joints are a swine 
And my joys have been had 
We met with some pirates 
Who flew a Black Jack, 
I defended our crew 
And I knackered my back 
We unloaded our cargo, 
Keg after keg 
But I dropped the last one 
And I knackered my leg 
Oh the wages at sea,
As I mentioned, are fair 
But it’s time for my pension,
I’m losing my hair 
And while I was washing 
The deck of our Brig,
A bloody great sea-gull 
Flew off with my wig 
A storm blew up fast 
Out upon the high sea, 
I fell off the mast 
And I knackered my knee 
We were boarded again 
And I fought our attackers 
And that’s how I finally 
Knackered my [all together] 
Oh, the sea it is fine 
And the wages aren’t bad 
But I’d like to get home 
With the same bits I had 
