Felix McGlennon
It was the schooner ‘Aspirin’ 
Went sailing down the Strand
The boy stood on the burning deck
With a banana in his hand. 

We went and booked at Charing Cross
And changed at Waterloo
The skipper said, 'they’re after me
For shooting Dan Magrew.' 

His little blue-haired daughter said
“Oh, father, father, please, 
Why can’t that little boy sit down?” 
The boy said, “Not in these-”

The skipper stood beside the helm
His pipe was in his mouth
His ears were pointing East and West
His whiskers pointed South. 

And as the wind blew through them there
His whiskers throbbed and throbbed
He, anguished, cried, “What shall I do?” 
The Mate said, “Have them bobbed!” 

They reefed the anchor, furled the mast
And then the sails went flap
The skipper growled, “We’re lost, We’re lost
Well - he was playing ‘nap’. 

Up came a monster of the deep
And said, with angry nod
You’ve got my Green Eye, skipper
For I’m the Yellow Cod.

The good ship shuddered, then it wept
And said, “I fear I’m done.” 
The crew said “Give her Kruschen
If you want to make her run.” 

Down came the storm, the hail, the snow
Up came the gallant crew
Up came the waves, up came the wind
Up came their dinners too. 

The skipper tried to say a pray’r
The crew said, “Ah, too late.” 
The second Mate, a Scotchman bold
He went round with the plate. 

The Mate then started to recite
And thus he loudly roared
“’Twas Christmas day in the Workhouse.” 
Then we dropped him overboard. 

The Mate came back and asked us if
He’d give us “Billy Rose” 
We lifted up the Colney Hatch
And hit him on the nose. 

“Come, launch the boats” the skipper cried
The crew said, “You’re insane
The lifeboats are old-fashioned now
We’ll launch the aeroplane.” 

And so we launched the Henry Ford
As in the air we soared
The good ship cried, “Oh, don’t leave me.” 
So we dragged it there on board. 

It was the Schooner ‘Aspirin’
It cried “I do feel ill.” 
We boxed its compass, then we gave it
A Carter’s Liver Pill. 

And so we sailed, and sailed, and sailed
Out o’er the frozen track
A p’liceman yelled, “The Strand is up.” 
And so we all turned back. 

And then we turned - and turned- and turned
The crew were sore afraid
The skipper said, “Let’s turn our shirts
Our laundry’s been mislaid.” 

The North - and South- and East - and West
O’er fields of ice and snow
We saw a big pole sticking up
On the reef of Norman’s Woe. 

A bang, a crash, we tumbled down
And shivered in the snow
The North Pole never will be found
‘Twas shattered by the blow. 

Such was the wreck of the ‘Aspirin’
And ev’ry word is true
The skipper was a holy friar
And I’m a liar too.
The end