The Poet Laureate is the official bard of the royal family. It's a traditional post that goes back hundreds of years and holders of it include William Wordsworth, Lord Tennyson, John Masefield, John Betjeman and Ted Hughes. There's been quite a variety of topics for their works, from wandering as lonely as a cloud to the sea fever that sailors get.
And today we have another, namely the skills of that great footballer David Beckham. The current holder, Carol Ann (no not that one, her surname is Duffy) is a big fan of the beautiful game and morns the loss of one of England's finest from the coming World Cup - and rightly too.
But where are the great poets for the sailing competitions of today? Did any crafter of words become inspired by the 33rd America's Cup? I would like to say I leapt at the chance to fill this gap but poetry is not my forte
Is there, then, someone out there who will be able to record for literary posterity something that captured the essence of the contest?
In order to show how low the threshold of quality really is, here are some lines using the structure of a limerick drafted by yours truly:
There was a young man named Ernesto
Who loved to race with a gusto
On loosing AC-33
Said Larry with glee
It’s time he hung up his Mustos
Oh dear! Please put us all out of our misery!
9 comments:
I bet I can do even worse than that!
There was a team called Oracle
Whose boat was bigger than a coracle
They took on Alinghi
But not in a dinghy
And beat 'em even though their lawyers were diabolical.
Or even worser...
Larry won AC33
But where will the next one be?
I bet you a penny to a pound
It will be on Rhode Island Sound
Except Joe Rouse would disagree.
I'll see your worse and lower you:
The America's Cup, I recollect,
Was once won on the waves and on deck,
But to my chagrin
The new way to win
Is to yell out in court, "I object!"
Rhode Island's a fine place by me,
Blessed by the sun and the sea,
But if when you sail
You like to bury the rail,
San Francisco is where you will be.
a pathetic attempt at a haiku:
alinghi's dinghy
eat our wake
the wing is king
O'Docker, I like what you said,
but here's a better idea instead.
They'll sail catboats all day, down on Barnegat Bay,
and defend the Cup, head to head
Some unexpected talent here.
I think I'll have to ask for more examples
You want it worse?
Here is a curse!
I can be terse,
so hear my verse!
Larry won with a mighty tall wing,
so Ernesto isn't quite the thing.
But of wind they will not be forlorn,
If you send them way south to Cape Horn,
And to make the Cup racing hotter,
Give each a stalwart West Wight Potter.
Then expense will not be a bother,
As all the leaks they try to fother.
And never will they give any ground,
Until maybe one of them has drowned.
It could be worse,
so get your purse,
to buy a hearse,
for this poor verse.
More! More!
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