Thirteen Neophytes

[hextraterrestrial]

The Cruise of The North Star

The trim North Star, has f red afar
On errands of mercy and peace.
She’s breasted ice and paid the price,
And bowed to the Gail’s caprice.

King Neptune rose from heaving floes
As she crossed the Arctic Line;
That gleaming rail he quickly scaled
And freed his locks of brine.
He trod the deck at his beck
The crew of the brigantine
Did fashion a throne, from a whales backbone
For Neptune’s court to convene.

From the deep, with a mighty leap
Bounced jovial Davy Jones.
His scepter of oak, was whitened spoke
From the Suzy boat’s bleaching bones.

“Court’s in session! Prepare for confession!”
Rex Neptimus boomed in rage.
“Go bring ‘em in-these chillun o’ sin
Their offences we must gauge.”

With wicked grin M.C. led in
On this Arctic autumn night
With blinded eyes and moans and cries
Some thirteen Neophytes.

King Neptimus without more fuss
Demand the charges to know.
The crimes they confessed were gruesome at best;
The skipper was stunned by the blow.

Old Dave Jones pranced with elegance
And showered the court with mirks;
Up spoke the King; his voice did ring,
“I decree you give ‘em the works.”

Pajama clad, those thirteen had
To hop o’er the Arctic Line.
O’er ancient rope they had to grope
And into a bucket of brine.


The cameras clicked and Neptune slicked
His tousled, hempen locks.
He righted his crown and tried to frown
For Charlie wore no socks.

Dried salmon and ice, without rice
Were served to initiates;
No fork, no spoon, their light – the moon
Their seats were cargo crates.

And just for luck they served muk tuk
The Eskimo caviar
Davy eyed the blond, with glances fond
How Neptimus did glare.

By light of the moon, with voices atune
They serenaded the gulls.
The wheelman steered, the Skipper peered
And thought of ice-crushed hulls.
They crossed the Line – across the brine
The whistle shrilled thirteen;
Oh! Never before the north of 54
Has Neptune e’er been seen.

How wonderful is Davy’s pull
To coax the doughty Neptune forth!
Don Davy’s fond of hair that’s blond
Ye Ships, when ye fare North

If ye would see the God of the Sea
Remember Davy’s weakness
So greet the king and welcome him
With most becoming meekness

Edna Borigo 1936