The Submariner Song

I'm a submariner in a tin can. With my decks and dials in my hands. Without portholes I fear depth-charges. With no crew left my friend's sonar. There's so much to hear here when it's so still. Reefs, whales and hulls are my fear. A single bead of sweat on my brow because I'm a submariner. There was one hour left but the counterfeiter said, "No!" You should have sold me a Seiko. He's the only reason I'm here. He's my submariner, my dear. Been here outside for him for five years. I've left his meals out for him. There was one hour left but the counterfeiter said, "No!" You should have sold me a Seiko. I want to get to my stately home. You should have sold me a Seiko.

15 Minute Song

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My Perspex flexed windshield was shattered by sea spray. My deck was all battered by rocks and then stripped away my Captain and Chaplain were swallowed up down below - wrapped up in the pipe-work and rigging because we sailed too close. My First Mate named Innes sat back and yelled at the crew, “It’s women and Children! They’re first then I’ll follow you!” He cast off three minutes past stating this and rowed for days. One life - in lifeboat for 30 plus frozen grey - set forth. He left them clinging on the floe.

Time Travel For Beginners

My cousin Frank told me he'd invented time travel. He built his machine out of fifteen fridges and four carburettors but the micro-chips were more difficult to come by. For safety's sake he built his machine out on Salisbury Plain. He told me that time travel was bit of a drag. That the Renaissance resembled the First World War. And the future was such a disappointment to him as there were no spaceships or flying cars at all. He travelled forward to the year 2043 to withdraw some money he deposited in 1946. He wanted to spend it on a girl he'd met in 1612 but her parents burnt him for being a witch.

Newfoundland

Chewing tobacco raised his light. Put down his glass and said goodnight then headed home walked through the fog that draped his view out of the harbour crossing dunes where he had made his home. Sea salt had only left a stain. The sea won’t wash this stain away. How’s he going to see without it? By loosening the Mooring Hitch.

Turned on the lantern in his room turned on the gas and raised his broom to rest his head upon. Looked at the remnants of the wood thought of the storm and what he could and should and would have owned. Sea salt had only left a stain. The sea won’t wash this stain away. How’s he going to leave without it? By loosening the Mooring Hitch. How’s he going to sell without it? Loosening the Mooring Hitch.

My Best Job

Sammy the Archer played with another man’s skin. “Good Day, Padre. I’ve heard what you need today is latte. Burnt watch your knees. Touché Padre turn on your steel. You crave Cartier earned from your deals. I’d take my time but you know they want me every Monday after Sunday to work till Friday and it’s mundane so I’ve set myself to take aim at your bitter old hardened back.” Sammy the Archer played with another man’s skin.

The Privateer

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A sail that’s grey a prow that’s blue. The ship arrived here in the bay it came against the tide and wasn’t there last night. The harbour master said, “That’s weird.” A musket, compass and briefcase assigned to those who’re in the know. Setting sail at nine reaching half past five to plunder, pillage, rape and burn. From bed to job to pub to dock I saw the press-gang on the way that’s just sitting here. They need one more for a crew. Aboard the Privateer board the Privateer boards the Privateer.

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