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White Cliffs - Log Santa Claus Night's Watch



On August 13,  1962,
a little boy was born and his name wasn’t Sue.
It wasn’t Johnny either as one might now think,
oh no, it was Freddy, little Freddy Pink.
At first he wasn’t too happy about his name,
since black would have given him more streetcredibility in life’s game.
And mr. Mercury had already
taken all the credits for Freddy.
So it wasn’t his title that helped him sail smoothly through life
and neither was it his remarkable ability to dance the jive.
No no, dear reader ahoy,
it was sailing that fulfilled his life with joy.
David Lynch would have been pleased to hear that our sailor was dating a girl named Lula for a while,
but alas it didn’t last, they were both still too juvenile.
With a heart full of tears that would most definitely leave a permanent mark,
he decided the best way to forget about her was to join the ARC.
Only a few days before the coolest convoy ever was about to leave,
all of a sudden he found a French girl named Rose upon his sleeve.
However sweet and pretty she was,
she looked like she just served six years at Alcatraz.
She came to Las Palmas after her boyfriend left her crying at the discotheque
and to get over him would take more than to simply sail across a lake.
Our two lost souls found eachother at the Sailors Bar,
and decided they could care less about going to the safety seminar.
They only had eye for eachother and not for the road,
so it can’t be a surprise to hear they were run over by a big tanker boat.
Their bodies never washed ashore
and after all those years their families are searching no more.
Some say they were eaten by sharks,
others think they are now guerillawarriors also called FARC’s.
I never believed those silly tales,
as sharks have a smaller appetite than do hunchbackwhales.
The story I prefer to buy
is not a question of how but more a question of why.
Not long after two bodyless funerals had taken place,
eleven little islands near Miami completely changed face.
They were wrapped up in pink fabric so bright
that is was the art and not it’s makers that were put in the spotlight.
The books say it was Jeanne Claude and her man Christo,
but I think it was Rose and mr. Pink, after which they sailed away on their brand new 45 ft. Jeanneau.


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