JOHN

John, across the broad Atlantic,

Tried to navigate a barque,

But he met an unromantic

And extremely hungry shark.

John ( I blame his childhood's teachers )

Thought to treat this as a lark,

Ignorant of how these creatures

Do delight to bite a barque.

Said,‘ This animal's a bore!’ and,

With a scornful sort of grin,

Handled an adjacent oar and

Chucked it underneath the chin.

At this unexpected juncture,

Which he had not reckoned on,

Mr. Shark he made a puncture

In the barque — and then in John.

Sad am I, and sore at thinking

John had on some clothes of mine;

I can almost see them shrinking,

Washed repeatedly in brine.

I shall never cease regretting

That I lent my hat to him,

For I fear a thorough wetting

Cannot well improve the brim.

Oh! to know a shark is browsing,

Boldly, blandly, on my boots!

Coldly, cruelly carousing

On the choicest of my suits!

Creatures I regard with loathing,

Who can calmly take their fill

Of one's Jaeger underclothing:—

Down, my aching heart, be still!