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Seafarin'
 
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POOR TRACE
by
Jon Crowley

Never would Tracy have sailed round the world,
In the ord’nary course of events.
She’d never done anything like it before –
The excitement she felt was immense.

For Trace, you should know, was a stay-at-home type.
(Or had been, right up to today).
She’d always been happy with Mummy and Dad
And helping her brother at play.

But one day she read of the “Marie Celeste”,
And a woman was wanted as crew.
And without really thinking of what it entailed
She decided that’s what she would do.

So she bought a cagoule and a stout pair of shoes
And a bag for her ham-and-egg sandwiches,
And a book, which enabled our heroine to say
“I’m lost!” in a number of languages.

And she went down to Plymouth, and met with the crew
Who were waiting for Trace’s arrival.
But I’m sorry to say that they laughed when they saw
The equipment she’d brought for survival.

They sat and they chatted, and very soon found
That she hadn’t a clue about yachts,
Nor of charts, nor of flags, or echo-location,
Or night-navigation, or knots.

So they looked at each other, her shipmates-to-be,
And they reached an unspoken decision.
And later that night in the “Admiral’s Arms”
As she gazed at the Sky television

They bought her a supper – prawn cocktail, it was,
Then a steak, and a lovely Peach Melba;
And they plied her with drinks of the powerful kind
Till she knew not Madras from the Elbe.

Then off they all scarpered, jumped into the boat,
Cast off, and set course for the Med.
And when the next morning Trace opened her eyes
With a thumping great pain in her head,

She was lost and deserted, the crew were all gone –
Not one could she find in the place.
And hence, in the papers, the headlines next day:
“Crew Disappears Without Trace”.
 
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