Large Fierce Mammal

The Schooner Courtesan
(A ribald shanty)

By LFM

The schooner Courtesan was fast,
A spirited ride was she!
An’ if ye’d fain be named “a ride”,
Well, that’s the kind to be!

“Voluptuous” can scarce describe,
Nor “pulchritude” befit,
The goode ship’s naked figurehead,
Both legs wrapped ’round the ‘sprit!

Her back was arched, her hips just so,
Affording glorious view
That raised morale upon the deck
Through any wind that blew!

Blowing every yard of sail,
Each crewman’s soul astir,
She’d ride with joy the greatest swells
Because they swelled for her.

Where lesser ships would falter,
An’ their crews might n’er survive,
She surged and bucked beneath her men,
And brought each through alive.

She’d no mere “crew”, the Courtesan,
So cast that from your head.
In truth, instead of crew she took
Her lovers on instead.

The Courtesan’s now legend,
But for Men who knew her well,
Her memory will stir their loins
Until each sails to Hell.

Their kind no longer live except
As stories told of yore,
By those wot’s never been to sea,
An’ only blown ashore.