Explore "A Wigging" by Norman Gale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"To throw your hands above your head / And wring your mouth in piteous wise / Is not a plan," the Captain said, / "With which I sympathise. / And with your eyes to ape a duck / That's dying in a thunderstorm, / Because you deprecate your luck, / Is not the best of form.
"The fact is, Johnson, I am tired / Of all this posing for a faint, / Because you think the stump required / Another coat of paint. / As greatly would you vex my soul, / And drag decorum from the Game, / If in the block your head you'd roll, / Or stand upon the same.