Tropical Storm, by Oliver Brown

TROPICAL STORM
by Oliver Brown

The old man and the CIA
Floating in a silver tray
The current takes them to the fog
They wrote it in the captain's log
The captain's log says:
Three dots three dashes three more dots
There's no one here to call the shots
Some yellow and some purple yachts
Are floating in our chamber pots
The chamber pots say:
Storm
Wear your uniform
Weather's getting warm
Tropical depresh
Nature does the rest.

Inside us all a tidal wave
Poseidon likes to misbehave
The butter-churn is under way
Bad luck for all the stowaways
The stowaways say:
This vessel has been overstaffed
We didn't bring enough life-rafts
The wind destroyed our weather vane
We think it is a hurricane
The hurricane says:
Storm
Wear your uniform
Weather's getting warm
Tropical depresh
Nature doesn't rest.

I got seaweed in my hair
I got seaweed in my hair
I got seaweed in my hair
He's got seaweed in his hair

Three dots three dashes three dots more
We're stuck beneath God's great down pour
The old man who knows semaphore
Is hiding in the dresser drawer
The dresser drawer says:
The serpent and the albatross
Have planned a little coup de gras
The crew is getting water-logged
It's really raining cats and dogs
The cats and dogs say:
Storm
Wear your uniform
Weather's getting warm
We are weatherworn
Triton sounds his horn
Tropic Capricorn
Tropical depresh
Oceans effervesce
tighten your Mae West
Sink into the depths
This is our egress
We shall be reborn
Wear your uniform