A capital ship for an ocean tripWas the walloping window blind.No gale that blew dismayed her crewOr troubled the captain's mind.
The man at the wheel was taught to feelContempt for the wildest blow.And it often appeared when the weather had clearedThat he'd been in his bunk below.
The boatswain's mate was very sedate,Yet fond of amusement too;And he played hopscotch with the starboard watchWhile the captain tickled the crew.
And the gunner we had was apparently madFor he stood on the cannon's tail,And fired salutes in the captain's bootsIn the teeth of a booming gale.
The captain sat in a commodore's hatAnd dined in a royal wayOn toasted pigs and pickles and figsAnd gummery bread each day.
But the rest of us ate from an odious plateFor the food that was given the crewWas a number of tons of hot cross bunsChopped up with sugar and glue.
We all felt ill as mariners willOn a diet that's cheap and rude,And the poop deck shook when we dipped the cookIn a tub of his gluesome food.
Then nautical pride we laid aside,And we cast the vessel ashoreOn the gulliby isles, where the poohpooh smilesAnd the anagzanders roar.
Composed of sand was that favored landAnd trimmed in cinnamon straws;And pink and blue was the pleasing hueOf the tickletoeteasers claws.
We climbed to the edge of a sandy ledgeAnd soared with the whistling bee,And we only stopped at four o'clockFor a pot of cinnamon tea.
From dawn to dark, on rubagub barkWe fed, till we all had grownUncommonly thin. Then a boat blew inOn a wind from the torriby zone.
She was stubby and square, but we didn't much care,And we cheerily put to sea.We plotted a course for the land of blue horse,Due west 'cross the peppermint sea.