The old tramper was chopping sea logs
And the sky wore a grey Wehrmacht
Uniform when I got up on deck, a tall
Cook with a huge belly that was covered
By a dirty apron, stood leaning against
The galley door cleaning his nails with
A carving knife.
Bleary eyes he pointed the knife at me
And asked what I wanted. Breakfast, I
Whispered. Bacon’n’eggs? Yes.
With the same nail cleaning knife he
He cut me a few rashers of bacon, thicker
Than slices of loafs, plunged them into
a frying pan and when they sizzled cracked
A few eggs on top.
By then I wasn’t hungry but was too scared
To say so, drowned my breakfast in tomato
Sauce and ate what was in front of me.
On deck the cook held the apron up with
His teeth and peed into the sea.
The sky was now blue and I knew we would
Reach Jamaica in good time.