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| High Priestess | 12 Jan 2009, 06:13 PM |
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(Copied with full permission of IMDb user and author Frank Beachem) Thanks, Frank!  T’Was the Night of Titanic (by Clement C. Moore?) 'Twas the night of Titanic, when all over the steamer Not a passenger was stirring, not even a screamer; The lifeboats were hung by the davits with care, In hopes that an Iceberg soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of New York harbor danced in their heads; And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled down for a long April’s nap, When out on the decks there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the porthole I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. No moon on the ocean made it difficult to know Of the looming threat on the ocean below, When, what to my terrified eyes should glow, But a ship’s Captain, and eight deck officers in tow, With a little old man, so lively and forthwith, I knew in a moment it must be Captain Smith. More rapid than seagulls his officers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; ‘Now Boxhall! now, Fleet! now, Hitchens and Lowe! On, Murdoch! On, Moody! On Wilde, and Pitman let’s go! To the top of the boat deck! To the lifeboats don’t fall! Now lower away! Lower away! Lower away all!’ I dry heaved with seasickness seeing an Iceberg go by, When Titanic met the obstacle, icechips flew to the sky; So up to the promenade the First Class they flew, With the Guggenheims, Astors and the Countess of Rothes too. And then, while we were sinking, I heard in the wild The running and screaming of each little child As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the hallway Captain Smith came with a bound, He was dressed all in uniform, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with funnel ashes and soot. A bundle of charts he had flung on his back, And he looked like a robber, just filling his sack. His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His handlebar moustache was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; The stump of a funnel stood near us all, and its smoke it encircled us just like a pall; Smith had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook when he screamed, like a bowlful of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old knight, and I sighed when I saw him, in spite of our fright; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had an ocean to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled half the lifeboats; then turned with a jerk, and giving the finger to Cal and Lovejoy’s back, he helped save Rose, if not at all Jack; He sprang to the Bridge, the Titanic sank with a whistle, and away we all flew while I wrote this epistle. But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere Titanic sank out of sight, ‘Happy Titanic to all, and to all a good-night!! |
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| T’Was the Night of Titanic · ♥ Poetry Corner ♥ | |
7:46 AM Dec 4
