h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

BLOOD OF THE ZAPHODISTAS

There never was a pirate ship
like the Blood of the Zaphodistas.
Her rigging was taut. Through the waves she'd slip,
in search of more lucrative vistas.

The crew were all able, the captain the best,,
and the chow was incomparably fine.
They headed for Christmas Isle in the West,
eating cheesecake and drinking fine wine.

( While we wait for more verses about the
Blood of the Zaphodistas, I'd like to
digress with a tale about one of her
sister ships, called The Sorry Sight.
If Blood of the Zaphodistas is well-run,
Sorry Sight is not. Even Neptune won't touch her! )

THE SORRY SIGHT

Her sister ship was The Sorry Sight,
At the best of times unsteady,
With a mizzen mast that keeled to the right,
Hooked up to a bowl of spaghetti.

Her hunchbacked crew had arthritic hands,
And a mindset distinctly neurotic.
They'd not got the hang of life on land,
But they thought the sea was hypnotic.

The captain's blazer was neatly pressed.
His cravat was tied just so.
His attire was natty down to the waist,
But he didn't wear much below.

The chef was trained in the Pritikin way,
For he thought pirates ought to be lean.
The crew had cake six times a day,
Which they hid in spots unseen.

A foul nor'easter approached one night,
With waves as high as trees.
Twas doom for sure for The Sorry Sight,
Adrift on the roiling seas.

The sails were shredded by angry gales,
The mast broke clear in half.
The decks were awash, too deep for pails.
She sank, and the storm did laugh.

The seas becalmed, as if relieved
That The Sorry Sight was no more.
But some great force from the bottom heaved
Her back with a deafening roar.

For no one wanted The Sorry Sight--
Not mermaids nor squids nor fishes.
A current carried her into port,
Where the crew promptly got their wishes.

The Sorry Sight ne'er sailed again,
And the crew grew wealthy and fat
From tales of their night on the bounding main
Which couldn't endure the trouble and pain
Of dealing with sailors so clearly insane,
Even Neptune couldn't stand that!

The End

THE OLD PIRATES' HOME

The Old Pirates' Home was as grand as could be.
'Twas on a high bluff that looked far out to sea.
It bristled with gargoyles, and glittered with domes,
With seventeen gables-much more than most homes.

Its walls of gray stone rose above the hill's lip.
The roof was laid out like the deck of a ship,
Where gangplanks and pirate flags spoke of the past,
And crowning it all was a pirate ship's mast!

A large, heavy cannon was by the front door,
As if to say, "Landlubber, bother us no more."
The swords on display under glass in the hall
Were studded with rubies and diamonds and all.

The red velvet rugs boasted fine filigree,
As did the fine portraits of Old Hook and Smee.
The pirate who sat at the front desk would scowl
At any non-pirates who happened to prowl.

But if you belonged there, he'd nod as you passed,
As if to say, "Fancy who's come back at last!"
With 42 pirates, the Home was most full.
They'd sit in the bar with their rum, shooting bull.

"Pirates ain't what they used to be," one would declare,
Waving his arm-stump around in the air.
Another, with eye-patch and long, jagged nose,
Would add, "That's 'cause nowadays anything goes!"

They'd dream of their youth, when a pirate could dare
To make others' treasures just vanish in air.
"These young whippersnappers in Asia," they'd gloat,
"Don't care about treasure; they just steal the boat!"

The others agreed. They downed some more rum.
The pirate named Scraggabie raised his right thumb
And said, "But I hear there's a pirate from h**l
That puts'em to shame, and she's called 'Binker Tell.'"

The others guffawed at old Scraggabie's tale.
"She's just an old fairy, more minnow than whale,"
said Cannonball Crothers, "Like Tinker Bell, say.
She is on our side, but a pirate? No way!"

Just then, the old pirate that watched from on high,
Surveying the ocean for signs of foes nigh,
Came scrambling in panic. "A pirate ship's near!"
He yelped, "and it's well-armed. It's practically here."

Old Crothers then limped to the window to see.
"I don't see no pirate ship coming!" said he.
"No, no, it is flying. Just look way up there,"
The old lookout answered. "We'd better prepare."

The other men looked at the strange flying craft.
"That's Binker Tell's ship, and we know she's quite daft!"
Said Horrible Harry. "It's safe to ignore
Her ship and her crew. She's been harmless before."

The lookout ascended, then came back to say,
"Ms. Binker Tell says her respects she would pay."
This angered the pirates. Their swords they all drew,
And up to the rooftop the lot of them flew.

They stood, grim and glowering as, facing the sea,
They spied a small pirate ship, pale and ghostly.
Twas moored by a string to the Pirate Home's rail,
And it bobbed in the breeze. Binker Tell said, "All hail.

"Put down all your weapons. No harm do I bring.
In fact, I have come for your praises to sing "
The pirates looked puzzled. "Then why have you come?"
The lookout demanded. "We've naught here but rum."

"We aren't here to rob you. We don't want your gold.
We might ask a favor, though, if truth be told.
We are, in fact, pirates. We've sailed all the seas.
But some of us now have weak backs and sore knees.

First mate's got lumbago, the bosun arthritis.
Our hands can't do scrimshaw. The sharks try to bite us.
We'd best be retiring, but Old Fairies' Homes
Do not admit pirates, nor do the Old Gnomes.

We've got a dilemma. It's causing us gloom.
We take up no space. Could you give us a room?"
The pirates were outraged and angry at first.
"Share quarters with fairies?" said one, "That's the worst!"

The fairies' first mate then stepped into the fray:
"We're not asking charity, men. We can pay."
The pirates perked up at the mention of cash.
"How much can you give us?" said Fred with the Gash.

"Our ship's full of pirate gold, all of it real,"
Said Binker Tell. "Meet with us. Let's make a deal."
The meeting was long, but successfully ended.
The fairies were in, though by no means befriended.

Their ship was left moored to the rail by a cord.
The fairies lived nicely where old brooms were stored.
The Old Pirate's Home still looks far out to sea,
And now it has int'resting diversity.

THE END

CHRISTMAS ISLAND, YO HO HO!

For Christmas Island we are bound.
'Tis not a place that's eas'ly found.
We hear it's guarded by a hound
With six-foot teeth and ten great tails.
His roar makes catastrophic gales.
He wiggles, and a train derails.
Apart from that, he's fun to have around!

He'll let you pass. Next, there's a sphinx
Who is part manticore, part lynx.
She's harmless but, beware, she stinks!
She'll ask a riddle: Tell me whom
You'll find interred within Grant's Tomb.
It starts with "G." It's not a broom.
He fought the South, then went for drinks.

The gates then open, and one sees
A host of verdant Christmas trees.
The elves who plant them aim to please.
Their boss resides in frigid clime,
But visits once, at Christmastime.
A lovely isle, round as a dime!
We'll soon be there, with helpful breeze.

PROLEGOMENA

Come, gather 'round, my friends. Take off your shoes,
And find a comfy chair. I'll cure your blues
With tales of knights and knaves, of kooks and kings,
And eerie flying things with gnarled wings.

CANTO I

I'll sing of Pierce the 's wondrous ship
That carved a mighty wake at furious clip,
Replete with crew most various. One and all
Were worthy seafolk 'gainst the fiercest squall.

When last seen, Pierce's ship neared Christmas Isle,
Intent on dropping anchor for a while.
If knaves should walk the plank, a feeding spree
Would then reward the serpents of the sea

CANTO II

And what about th'attack on MuseHome's tower,
When dogs in jackboots came in darkest hour?
Then Dragonfly, Muse Mother, kitties' friend
Did rally all her troops, home to defend.

The leader of the dogs, a certain Red,
The MuseHome's library de-mo-li-shed.
Good fortune, though, upon the books did smile,
For all were microfilmed at earlier while.

CANTO III

About our Gosho's antics this we know:
He chocolate-covered Barry Manilow,
Then bragged about his deed at many a thread,
And irked some high officials, so 'twas said.

No action 'gainst our Gosho's yet been taken.
Oh, will he by his friends be soon forsaken?
Is silliness like this a heinous crime
Deserving of compensatory time?

CANTO IV

Of other tales, the glorious and the bleak,
With your consent I might be inclined to speak,
For you, my listeners, hold it in your power
To send me rattling on for many an hour.

THE GHOST OF AUNT MATILDA


The ghost of Aunt Matilda walks the lonely decks at night.
She peeks through every keyhole like a nosy barrow-wight.
The scullery staff all know her, for she fills their ears with tales
of kings and knaves and pirate ships, of treasure chests and sails.

At times she's sentimental, and at others full of glee,
and when she's melancholy she will wail like a banshee.
But if you're sympathetic, she's as gentle as a lamb.
She'll serve you tea or coffee, and some toasted scones with jam.

Her age she keeps a secret, for she'll never never tell.
She talks of good King Arthur, though, as if she knew him well.
She speaks in glowing terms about brave knights who'd joust and tilt,
of parapets and palaces with lofty towers built.

She helped brave Michelangelo the Sistine Chapel paint.
She made the tower of Pisa lean one day when she felt faint.
She even helped Lord Nelson in the Battle of the Nile
By scaring off the enemy disguised as a crocodile.

She's helped a lot of pirates--she's the best cook on the sea!
She makes the bestest lookout, and she even works for free.
The ghost of Aunt Matilda walks the lonely decks at night.
And so, next time you see her, say, "Matilda, you're all right!"

thankyou...very enjoyable.loved your style of writing.wishing you lots of happiness.