Ship Limericks

by Steve Kingsbury

Here's a few daft verses I've written about some of the people I've met in my time at sea. They range from the cheeky to the near-libellous, so one or two words have been omitted! And yeah, I do have a lot of time on those long sea days!

When things get a little bit wanky,

And life's fruit has gone mouldy and manky,

I think we're agreed,

That what we all need,

Is some gossip from Megan and Frankie.

How many bars would you say,

Are from Cork up to Donegal Bay?

Well, my mate, Irish Paul,

Has got drunk in them all,

While he blew on his horn all the way.

The naughtiest shoppie called Rosie,

Would sleep all the morning, so cosy,

The Docs on Azura,

Tried so hard to cure 'er,

But she still wakes up dopey and dozy.

That Pulsating singer called Chris,

Has a presence that's so hard to miss,

With a mince in his walk,

And a laugh like a squawk,

And a talent for taking the piss.

There's no one with showbiz pizzazz,

Quite like Yasmin (we know her as Yaz),

She is, more or less,

A true Disney princess,

With a penchant for beer and Shiraz.

Lana is not just the Malabar Belle,

No, this Aussie can dance,

And do Abba as well,

There's a comforting thought,

When it's Lana you lack:

She's a kangaroo boomerang,

Bouncing right back!

A party band singer called Hannah,

Had a beautifully affable manner,

But the one night we fed 'er,

Pork scratchings and cheddar,

She twatted around like a spanner!

On Azura, if you'd ever been,

After midnight to Crew Deck Nineteen,

When Mike would appear,

With a bag full of beer,

And more Cheetos than you'd ever seen.

Me and Char got on bikes in Grenada,

It was my fault, I'd tried to persude her,

We got caught in the rain,

Then she fell down a drain,

For a moment I thought I'd mislaid her.

Cameron loved playing bass,

His style and technique were just ace,

From ballroom to thrash,

From Elvis to Slash,

He had that same look on his face.

A gallery art tart called Pop,

Helps artists to get to the top,

If you give her a bung,

And your piece is well hung,

Then she'll guarantee you're not a flop.

Paige worked with kids for a start,

But the girl was a dancer at heart,

She'd twist and she'd twirl,

She'd sashay and whirl,

And her twerk was a great work of art.

That Pulsating vocalist Chris,

Has a hairdo with nothing amiss,

He skips round the ports,

In the tiniest shorts,

Whilst pouting his lips for a kiss.

In charge of the fun on A***a,

Was a boss without brains or bravura,

'Do as I say',

'Or f**k off today!',

Is the management style of Der Führer.

On Ventura I dined out with Tanya,

It's a shame that it wasn't Britannia,

'Cos it's now that I find,

That her name also rhymed,

With her favourite food, lasagna.

A splendid guitarist called Brad,

Once lost his guitar. Oh, how sad!

So he played ukulele,

And practised it daily,

'Til it steadily drove him quite mad.

Now, Kirsty loved wearing bikinis,

While knocking back Vodka Martinis,

But in England, behold!

It's so fucking cold,

She has to wear gloves and two beanies.

If you asked me how gorgeous was Keri,

I'd honestly have to say, 'Very!',

What a fab cabaret!

Here's to Keri! Hooray!

She's an Essex gal, born to make merry.

The gallery girl known as Cat,

Is convivial, simple as that,

Yeah, she'll sell the odd print,

Kick her heels off and sprint,

To the bar for a gin and a chat.

I once knew a drummer called Meg,

Who slept with my mate, Jake the Peg,

Looking down at his cock,

Well, she got quite a shock,

'Cos his middle stump looked like a leg.

There's nothing that's flashy or showy,

About my good friend clever Chloe,

But she's far from a bore,

Is a whizz with the law,

And she gave Abanazer a blowy.

A naked bar gig down in Devon,

Was a match made in musical heaven,

Yes, I travel the seas,

Playing up to ten keys,

But on that day I managed eleven.

More to follow...