In the midst of the dogwatch, a terrible squeaking!
The First Mate woke up: in the hold! Was it leaking?
He pulled on his trousers, rushed up to the deck,
Expecting to learn that the ship was a wreck,
And there found the captain, by the wheel, on his own,
Not taking the helm, but on his I-phone!
And what was that big thing, just off the port bow?
Iceberg? The Captain! He must warn him right now!
The Mate grabbed his sleeve, face white as a sheet.
“Look, Cap!—“ “Not now, Steve—I am writing a tweet:
‘He says much, much worse. And did much worse, too.’ ”
The Mate looked around: what was he to do?
“I gave him free rein—but this wasn’t the plan!”
He said to himself. “I must text Kellyanne!”
But, while he was dialing, the squeaking increased—
Did that stop the Captain? No, not in the least!
“I said that I never, I didn’t,” he tweeted,
“I didn’t, I never, I don’t,” he repeated.
The First Mate stared down at his I-phone, perplexed,
To find just one word as reply to his text!
The Captain typed on, “It’s so sad! It’s a mess!”
While the First Mate repeated that one word: “Unless”.
The Captain was thumbing, meanwhile, “Worse than Lyin’
Ted is that weak speaker and traitor, Paul Ryan!”
“Chris! I should text Chris!” and the First Mate got busy,
But the squeaks were so loud they were making him dizzy
And the iceberg (of course, it wasn’t alarming—
To the Captain, who always denied global warming)
Was poised to drown them in that pitiless space
Where so many ships of state sank without trace.
“So, honestly, folks, it was locker room talk”
Typed the Captain, “it’s something we do in New York.”
“He’s answered my text,” said the Mate, “that’s a mercy!”
But all that it said was, “There’s stuff here in Jersey.”
“And it’s all her fault, honestly, folks, she’s corrupt!”
Wrote the Captain—“Now, Cap”—“Steve, please don’t interrupt!
I am texting the world that we won the debate.”
“Please, Captain—stop texting, before it’s too late!”
“It’s huge and it’s big and it’s going to be great
And, before we are done, we’ll have gained every state!
To Jennifer Flowers, she has no defense!”
But the deck was now empty—no need for pretence,
Thought the First Mate—the Captain goes down with his ship—
So he put up his I-phone and gave Cap the slip.
In the lifeboat, the rats, big and little, were dense,
But the First Mate found room sitting next to Mike Pence
And, as the ship sank, they held back their tears,
Full of plans to set sail in another four years.