Sailor Clyde

My father once had a friend by the name of Clyde.  Clyde was a retired sailor who like many old timers liked to sit around and tell tales about his many adventures.  The following poem is rather lengthy.  It is actually three poems Dad wrote at different times about his friend Sailor Clyde.

SAILOR CLYDE by Roger W. Reese

There was an old sailor named Clyde,
Whose skin was all wrinkled and dried.

His legs were crooked and bowed.
His pants looked like they carried a load.

They couldn't get him afloat
His ass wouldn't fit in the boat.

I laughed so hard that I cried
If I'd have laughed any harder I'd have died.

This old sailor named Clyde,
Was full of bluster and pride.

Yes, sir! He was some "tom cat",
Or at least he thought that.

You could see the girls all snicker,
He could have too if he were quicker

He's no fancy tom cat,
Just a hairy old bat at that.

Boots the cat with Sailor Clyde,
Fishing they sat there side by side.

After a while Clyde began to dose,
With the fishing line tied to his toe.

In the water the bobber did bobble,
The line jerked and his toes did wobble.

Boots hopped to the line and gave it a haul,
But he fell in the water and let out a squall.

Clyde was startled by it all,
And in the water he did fall.

As you guess, Clyde was wet
And madder yet at his pet.

More about this old sailor named Clyde
He thought he'd find a bicycle to ride.

But first he would have a beer,
Just to help him over his fear.

One beer and several more, shook him to his core,
He thought he had need no more.

Staggering to the bicycle outside,
He needed help to get astride
Wobbling and reeling he fell on his side.

One leg was caught in the wheel,
The other he couldn't feel
This was one heck of a deal.

"A bicycle I will never ride,
It's safer in a boat to glide"
Said this old sailor named Clyde.

The snow fell all around old sailor Clyde,
So over the snow he thought he would slide.

He stumbled out to his old shed,
And finally found his boyhood sled.

He was covered with fur all skin and hair
Which made him look like a big clumsy bear.

Huffing and puffing he trudged to the top of the hill,
Now he was ready to repeat the thrill.

Climbing astride that old sled,
Had he known the future he would have stayed in bed.

At first his progress was somewhat slow.
But soon he was speeding across the snow.

The trees were whizzing bye - he was on a roll
Get out of the way he screamed as he lost control.

Now he was ripping down old route thirty-six
He thought to himself, "I'm in a heck of a fix."

Trucks and cars wee heading for the ditch
Tires and horns were screaming at a terrible pitch.

Poor old sailor Clyde had shut his eyes,
Feeling bad for he had not said his Good-Byes.

OH! OH! Here comes the river,
The very thought made him shiver.

He hit the water with a great big splat.
And out he popped like an old wet rat.

Old sailor Clyde has experienced many a tale,
But this is the one, the very thought, turns him pale.

Dad actually has written much better poetry but he likes this best because it is about an old friend who is no longer with us.  My father is now 85 and sadly, most of his friends are gone.  He misses them.