The Merman

Who would beA merman gay,

Singing alone,

Sitting alone,

With a mermaid's knee,

For instance—hey—For a throne?

II would be a merman gay;

I would sit and sing the whole day long;

I would fill my lungs with the strongest brine,

And squirt it up in a spray of song,

And soak my head in my liquid voice;

I'd curl my tail in curves divine,

And let each curve in a kink rejoice.

I'd tackle the mermaids under the sea,

And yank 'em around till they yanked me,

Sportively, sportively;

And then we would wiggle away, away,

To the pea-green groves on the coast of day,

Chasing each other sportively.

There would be neither moon nor star;

But the waves would twang like a wet

Low thunder and thrum in the darkness grum—Neither moon nor star;

We would shriek aloud in the dismal dales—Shriek at each other and squawk and squeal,"All night!" rakishly, rakishly;

They would pelt me with oysters and wiggletails,

Laughing and clapping their hands at me,"All night!" prankishly, prankishly;

But I would toss them back in mine,

Lobsters and turtles of quaint design;

Then leaping out in an abrupt way,

I'd snatch them bald in my devilish glee,

And skip away when they snatched at me,

Fiendishly, fiendishly.

O, what a jolly life I'd lead,

Ah, what a "bang-up" life indeed!

Soft are the mermaids under the sea—We would live merrily, merrily.