The Refit Ship

Oliphaunt, my feathered friend
He spake out to the years, “Pretend!”
And with it feathers fell for them
Figurehead he flew to Land of Ends

It came for those of us it pleased
We pleasured all the outlet whales
But when it came to cutting time
All they’s found was fishes’ tails

“Haha!” a shout from on the roof
I ran myself out into the loop
A twirling mass of flesh and stone
Cold in right places, dead to boot

What’s this, my time in coldest attic
Frowned upon but n’er, ne’er panicked
And what is this, my sweetest regret
Out on open poop deck I sicked

Upwards on and to the sky, I
Says to mine, I says to those concerned
Not many for me, mates are all
Unbound or bound, to ships or worms

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