18 July. 
“—WITH SLOW MUSIC—” 
The Royal Poet while nipping his morning grog tossed off the follow- 
ing sonnet.' King Neptune deeming it quite appropriate, issued orders 
for the Royal W.P.A. chorus immediately upon arising, to serenade Houston 
pollywogs with its sonorous whine during the e\ ening meal. 
We're waiting for you day by day, 
The time is drawing nigh 
When your crimes you’ll have to pay, 
And serve your time or die. 
King Neptune Rex His Majesty 
The Monarch of the Sea, 
Has ordered us to put you through 
The fifty-third degree. 
We are the demons of the deep 
We guard the King’s Domain, 
Those not among us who invade 
Must suffer intense pain. 
No lubber ever passed our gate 
Until he paid the price 
We boil them in oil, or 
We freeze them in ice. 
You buzzards, earthworms, mountain bugs, 
We’ll turn you inside out. 
We’ll smother you with sea weed rugs, 
And rotten saurkraut. 
We’ll tear you from your happy homes 
And start you in the game 
When you have nursed your battered bones 
You’ll feel quite meek and tame. 
We’ll knock you dead you rubber socks 
We’ll amputate your ears 
We’ll scrape you down with silver knives, 
And dirty, rusty shears. 
And turpentine and clotted blood 
Shall gurgle down your throat 
You’ve got to pay King Neptune’s bill 
You’re on a rough old boat. 
Bow down you wretched rubber boots 
You prairie schooner whales. 
We’re going to lash you to the mast 
And tatter all your sails 
You’ve violated Neptune’s rules 
We’ve got you dead to rights, 
We’ll ram you on the starboard bow, 
And smash your running lights. 
— 14 - — 
18 July. 
THE WORM TURNS 
Along towards the middle of the afternoon the following mailgram 
was spewed up through the starboard hawse pipe by a much winded polly- 
wog shark messenger. 
From : POLLYWOGONI A. 
To : NEPTUNUS-REX. 
TO ALL CRUSTY HARD HEADED WHALE BELLIED SHELLBACKS 
DO NOT CONTEMPLATE ANY RASH UNDERTAKINGS IN THE 
FORTHCOMING INITIATION OF THE LOYAL SUPER MEN OF 
POLLYWOGONIA INTO YOUR INFAMOUS ORGANIZATION. TREAT 
US AS BECOMES OUR DIGNITY AND POSITION. BEWARE OF 
OFFENDING OUR KINDLY NATURES OR OF OTHERWISE INCURR- 
IN OUR WRATH. BEWARE FURTHER OF THE “LOWERING OF 
THE BOOM” AN ANCIENT RITE PRACTICED FREELY ON THE 
ENEMIES OF POLLYWOGONIA. A FURTHER WORD OF WARNING; 
WE ARE BECOMING INCREASINGLY ANNOYED WITH “SIGH GRAN- 
NY TALK” ABOUT ENORMOUS RAZORS, SAWS, LEG IRONS TAR 
AND FEATHERS , ETC. WE DOUBT GREATLY THE EXISTENCE OF 
KING NEPTUNE AND HIS ROYAL COURT, EXCEPT IN THE CHILD- 
ISH MINDS OF IMBECILIC SHELLBACKS. THEREFORE WE SAY 
BEWARE, BEWARE, BEWARE. 
It was later reported that the messenger lost a fin on the prow of the 
ship. Our foreign correspondent at the Embassy in Pollywogonia quoted 
the King of the Pollywogs as saying “A fin well spent.” 
A WORD TO THE WISE 
During the dinner hour the shellback quartet crooned a lilting lullaby, 
from an original composition by the Royal Poet. 
“Tenshun all you land-ho lubbers, 
All you salty seagoing blubbers, 
We’re about to span the equatorial lino. 
Blast your weather beaten scuppers, 
You will make delicious suppers 
When King Neptune’s Devils come aboard to dine. 
All you every day offenders, 
All you macaroni benders 
All you violators of the Day’s Routine, 
When the Royal coppers get you 
And the Supreme High Judges sweat you 
You will feel just like a home sick Navy bean. 
You have got to join our order, 
When you trepass on the border 
Of the Sacred Kingdom of Neptunus Rex 
Take it easy with your grudges 
Or the fury of the Judges 
May command a noose around your rubber necks. 
Davy Jones will soon be serving 
Summons to the fate deserving, 
To confront the Royal Monarch in his Court 
You are watched - but don’t get nervous, 
By the Royal Secret Service 
Don’t molest King Neptune’s Devils at their sport, 
/s/ The Royal Poet. 
— 15 - 
