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The Pollywog

I sailed a ship, the Pollywog,

To go to distant lands

For too distant was her love from me

And too distant were her hands,


And if ever I could reach her now

For I hadn’t got a map,

I wouldn’t be too hopeful

For I’s a foolish chap.


Foolhardy is the heart of he

Who, inspired by desire,

Listens to a woman's tears

And tries to quell that fire.


For when he does I guarantee

He’ll never be the same

And thoughts of taking to her seas

Will make him quite insane.


And ain't no lie when people jest

He won’t be seen again

Till corral, clams, and barnacles

Have taken o’er his brain.


And one day if he finds her

She’ll take that oyster’s heart

And wear it on a string

Around her neck to play the part.


And that’s a part I never understood

To tell it straight

For she’ll make a sailor of a clerk

And a sinner of a saint;


She’ll drive him down the river

And eventually to the sea

And it’ll all become a legend

Of a he who loved a she.


And she her name was Polly

And he his name was wrong

And that stinkin’ deck of Pollywog

Reduced the man to song,


And the song was something eery

Any man would understand

It said, I sailed a ship the Pollywog

To go to distant lands...

Dive a bit deeper

Poetry is musical and thus is best heard. Below you can listen to the poem being read aloud.

Poem Audio
The Pollywog
00:00 / 03:36

"Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words."

Edgar Allen Poe
Bonfire Reads the Classics
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Image by Birmingham Museums Trust
Image by Jr Korpa


Read the Poem again

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Put away your devices

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