"gamestop"



The sea’s breast swells all topsy turvy

And turns the best crew mad with scurvy,

Or mal de mer, or whiskey swervy,

With dreams of cloistered bays. 



The minstrels laugh with boastful tales

Of how their screeds have filled our sails.

By threat of ban or fruited tail

Cheering the jollys we raise. 



The grasping harpies tear our clothes

And sow doubt like the north wind blows.

But every book papered sailor knows

That selling is for whores. 



Alain pulls helm with all he dares

While sirens sing to sell our shares.

The crew, as one, responds “Who cares?”

And lean into their oars. 



Larry keeps rhythm and calls the stroke.

The mates are all hands; in on the joke!

Kenny’s in chains complaining he’s broke,

Left to his own devices. 



A vessel blessed by Teddy's heart

That navigates an ancient chart

With a chief who trusts we’ll do our part;

Have courage in a crisis! 



“O Captain, my Captain! Our souls, to the last!”

So with ice in his eyes he cries “Hold fast!”

From his place tied hard to the mast

Ryan spits his last retort- 



“The perverse incentives of hollow men

Are not a delight or a resume win.

You catch bees with honey, not rancid vin!

LET - THEM - SHORT!” 



The Nihliad