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.


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