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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE WORRIED SKIPPER, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I hates to think of dyin', says the skipper to the mate
Last Line: "the trouble's with yer liver."
Alternate Author Name(s): Ginger; Hashimura Togo


"I HATES TO THINK of dyin'," says the skipper to the mate;
"Starvation, shipwrecks, heart disease I loathes to contemplate.
I hates to think of vanities and all the crimes they lead to,"
Then says the mate,
With looks sedate,
"Ye doesn't reely need to."

"It fills me breast with sorrer," says the skipper with a sigh,
"To conjer up the happy days what careless has slipped by;
I hates to contemplate the day I ups and left me Mary."
Then says the mate,
"Why contemplate,
If it ain't necessary?"

"Suppose that this here vessel," says the skipper, with a groan,
"Should lose 'er bearin's, run away, and hump upon a stone;
Suppose she'd shiver and go down, when save ourselves we couldn't."
The mate replies,
"Oh, blow me eyes!
Suppose, ag'in, she shouldn't?"

"The chances is ag'in us," says the skipper in dismay;
"If fate don't kill us out and out, it gits us all some day.
So many perish of old age, the death rate must be fearful,"
"Well," says the mate,
"At any rate,
We might as well die cheerful."

"I read in them statistic books," the nervous skipper cries,
"That every minute by the clock some feller ups and dies;
I wonder what disease they gits that kills in such a hurry,"
The mate he winks
And says, "I thinks
They mostly dies of worry."

"Of certain things," the skipper sighs, "me conscience won't be rid,
And all the wicked things I done I sure should not have did;
The wrinkles on me inmost soul compel me oft to shiver."
"Yer soul's fust-rate,"
Observes the mate;
"The trouble's with yer liver."





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