By Hook Or By Cook? The Saltwater Crocodile Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

The week before mid-winter’s day
Young Nick’s judgement went astray -
Spying aloft for cape and bay
He snoozed too long and missed the way.

Though Captain Cook just came to look
In sounding he was much mistook -
He failed to fathom every nook
And on a reef was badly stuck.

Of the gents he had onboard
Old Joe Banks was awfully bored -
And Herr Spöring as they yawed
Simply yawned and slept and snored.

But Chas Green the official astronomer
Feared for his chronometer –
He endeavoured to keep himself together
Scared the barque meet stormy weather.

[At this point it would be best explained
The watch was one that Kendall made
On which longitude was accurately displayed -
Tho’ Harrison the inventor went unpaid.]

Then “Time has come” said Dan Solander
“To plug the holes in this colander -
Or immersion soon will end her
And to D. Jones’s locker send her”.

The ship was hauled and fothered next -
With oakum, wool and horse poo best -
And thence became the Yimithirr’s guest
For caulking and a well-earned rest.

At this point Herman grunted and awoke
Clearing his throat before he spoke -
‘Das great green log ich nichts gejoke
Hast eyes that vink and threaten volk’

At this, the Saltie ran a hundred metre
A sprint that scarce had been much fleeter -
And having shattered Charlies’ box
Chugger-lugged the King of Clocks.

Thought he: my time has surely come
For fancy movements have begun -
But slowly as the cog-wheels spun
His hiatus soon was throbbing some.

Crickety-crockity-crickety-crook
The crocker, who was feeling yuck -
All horologic then forsook
Accosting famous RN Captain Cook.

Now Jim was taciturn and rarely smiled
And watched his arms were well-retired
[as to their attachment he aspired]
So he tipped the wink to Hicks - who fired.

The beast retreated to his den
But marines were ready at the count of ten -
And volleyed and sundered -
The crock stopped - never to go again.

The surgeon faced with these abuses
Took time to sop the innards’ oozes -
A clock is what he then produces -
Sound - but stained with gastric juices.

Now time and tide are never late
And chronometers ne’er should wait -
Oh crocodiles just bide the while
And mind your etiquette and dining style.

Don’t gobble till the day is done
With sixty seconds’ distance run -
Just smile and watch the fun
Or one untimely spring may jump the gun.