Mike Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

Mike's a Jonah, an out-and-outer
As ever signed in a Hebrew spouter;
All the kinds of misfortune trail
After Mike like a comet's tail.

Water failing and watches drowned,
Ships dismasted and ships aground,
Ships on fire at sea, or drifting
On a lee shore with the cargo shifting,
Sunken wreckage and rocks and floes,
All the worries and all the woes
Ever a ship fell foul of yet -
Mike's been into 'em all, you bet!

His life's packed full of troubles and knocks
Like a blooming What-you-may-call-her's box,
Stowed in his old sea chest he's got 'em,
With hope hid somewhere in the bottom.
For come what may and come what will
Old Mike he comes up smiling still.

Same old, game old, split-face grin
You could shove a baked potato in,
Same old wrinkling, twinkling eyes,
With the look in 'em of mild surprise
As if he was thinking, 'Why in thunder
Does things turn out this way, I wonder?'

And for all he brings you the darnedest luck
Of any poor blighter ever you struck,
It's rum, a feller can't help but like Mike!