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Risque Business - The Risque Business Bard



A stowaway in Ed’s head has crept out and we have found a poet on board to keep us company. Some may liken his style to Oscar Wilde, while others might consider it more Vogon (Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy), but here is unabridged (apart from some changes to the XXX verses🤣). Now you know what we’ve got to live with these next 2 weeks!!


The Siren Part 1

Swimming up from the keel, I see my next meal.
From the shine of its fin, my mind goes to sin.
She sings for my eel, I dare not let her feel.
She beckons me in, I swallow the rest of my gin.

She pulls me in by my vest, my eyes meet her breast.
With long flowing hair, I can't help but stare.
I call to the rest, with rescue my request.
Beautiful and fair, apart from scales she's bare.

She pulls me down, to where shipwrecks are found.
With waves over head, she took me to bed.
I forget I may drown, yet I smile not frown.
Young greenhorn Ted, was missing presumed dead.


The Sciren Part 2

This tale is not yet over, this sailor has just become sober.
So bring me a beer, and I will tell the rest clear.
Or better a whiskey, as Teds escape was quite Risque.
This is the story I'm told, increasingly wild and bold.

He said he was dragged under, where he saw her gold and plunder.
With her gills for air, by kissing they could share.
He claimed to quench her hunger, as he was spry and younger.
His mind turned to the surface, so he swam up with great purpose.

Orcas there were, shocked seeing him and her.
A lashing made of seaweed, was what Ted did need.
With a one handed bowline, he caught one and got towed in.
Teds grip was tight, as he escaped into the night.

With quite a commotion, he travelled across the ocean.
From Las Palmas to Mindelo, they dragged this poor fellow.
Leaving the orca called Gladys, seething with much malice.
Washing up on the shore, he was a greenhorn no more.

Ted sails with me still, and I wish him no ill.
But I do get the notion, he's drank many a foul potion.
He hears the singing still, but now fish make him ill.
A mystic sciren of the sea... Or illusion of rum and scurvy.

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