With apologies to John Masefield, and my wife – who has already forgiven me.
It just came over me. I blame the drink.
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky
And book myself a cruise with Virgin to watch the world go by.
And hum along with the west wind’s song and note the waves a -breakin’
And gorge myself on the finest food, and keep the cocktails shakin’.
I must go down to the seas again for the call of the running tide
Is drawing me on my holidays – it’s a call that’s not denied.
And all I ask is a sunny day to bake myself on deck
It’s better than sitting home by the fire and languishing, by heck.
I must go down to the seas again for a taste of the old high life
To meet someone who fancies me, and leave at home my wife.
And all I ask is a bit of fun with a laughing fellow-rover
And live my life to the very brim, until we dock at Dover.
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15 Comments
Mar 08 2009
8:10
Well James, You have the ability to hold the reader’s attention and make us all laugh. You cannot buy that James.
In my opinion, your comunication skills are second to none. You are an asset to any company or organization that has an ounce of integrity. Keep the faith James.
Mar 08 2009
14:23
james for poet laureate-how ever you spell it-really good poem
Mar 08 2009
15:21
Pure poetry in ocean.
Mar 08 2009
20:36
I ‘d nominate this man for the poet laureatship except that he’s far too entertaining to be wasted on court affairs. I’d much rather he kept entertaining us by writing his Virgin blogs.
Mar 09 2009
8:39
Hi Jim
Whose this Shakespeare bloke? Have you covered on board entertainment, i can think of a band that would drive everyone overboard, even if they are a hundred miles from land.
Keep up the good work, regards Jacko.
Mar 09 2009
12:01
Enjoyed the poetry James – funnier than Shakespeare whose only joke I can remember was the smutty one along the lines of: ‘His point broken, down came his hose.’
I believe they’ve just found an oil painting of the bearded bard and suggest this is published alongside a picture of your good self on your next blog to re-ignite the debate about reincarnation.
Keep it up!
Justin
Mar 10 2009
14:39
It’s very bold of Virgin to not object to your implication that their cruises are the place to find a bit of extra-marital fun. Good for them I say
Mar 22 2009
17:17
I’m thinking that maybe some of your lovely glowing comments are even more creative than my version of Masefield’s famous poem. As for why I wrote it well I am half-Irish on my mother’s side. Now how about some of you having a go at a similar poem or perhaps writing the lyrics of a suitable song (keep them clean and non-political!).
Mar 23 2009
12:16
I think James would have fit in quite well had be been born in Tudor times http://blog.virginholidayscruises.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/james-shakespeare-leavey.jpg
Mar 27 2009
16:48
The boy stood on the burning cheque
Twelve pounds gone up in smoke
The money earned at Tooting Bec
All gone by Royal Oak
Mar 28 2009
7:38
From bard to worse
He writes his verse
Especially a sonnet
We’re not saying he’s very odd
But he loves to wear a bonnet
Mar 28 2009
8:08
To sea, or not to sea; that is the question
Whether ’tis nobler in the bind to suffer
The waves and harrows of wash importune,
Or to take charms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them. To sigh, to steep -
No more, and by a steep to say we end
The headache and the thousand bottled hocks
That flesh is prone to – ’tis a consumption
Devoutly to be wished. Too high, too steep,
To steep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the nub,
For in that steep-filled breath what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this boozy oil
Must makes us pause. There’s the expect
That makes calamity of a wrong life,
For who would bear the drinks and horns of wine,
Th’oppressor’s song, the drunk man’s contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the bore’s relay,
The insolence of orifice, and the churns
That patients inherit of th’unworthy wakes,
When he himself might his quietus shake
With a full bod-bin? Who would these farters bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary wife,
But that the dread of some ‘ting after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No drinker returns, muzzled, no will,
And makes us rather share the pills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus alcohol makes drunkards of us all,
And thus the native’s loo of designation
Is sicklied o’er with pale cast of short,
And enterprises of great hic and moment
With this regard their currents turn away,
And loose the aim of action….
Mar 28 2009
8:38
Very, very good. Hilarious and extremely amusing. Well done!
Mar 28 2009
14:51
Brilliant. I really liked the insolence of orifice. Very much.
Apr 10 2009
9:56
A friend of mine summed this up the other day: he said I’ve gone from bard to verse…