The ballad of the doldrums
A sailing ship with canvas set
becalmed en route for Indies,
Spanish captain failed to get
even the slightest windies.
His cargo, bound for Western lands,
horses for Jamaica,
was needed by plantation hands
to help the sugar maker.
Hungry horses ate the food
and drank a lot of water.
Starving sailors roundly booed:
‘Cap’n, do what you oughtta.’
To lighten ship so breeze could blow
them to their destination,
desparate captain began to throw
equines off in frustration.
Plantation owners were not pleased,
they thought it was a trick
to deprive them of their wealth and ease;
it made them feel quite sick.
Ever since that dreadful time,
in the windless ocean,
in memory of Spanish crime
they cry out with emotion.
Latitudes thirty to thirty-five north
where winds forsake their courses
this doldrum ocean shall henceforth
be named Latitudes, Horses’.
For dVerse Poets Pub. Not a new piece of doggerel, but I’m in the Doldrums!