One day my wife wanted to sail on my boat;
Selma, my wife, she does love to eat
The storm it arose like a mythical beast
Wind turned the boat with Selma stuck under
I flew off the bow
My feet flying asunder.
This tale I retell with no second mirth
Compared to my boat,
Selma had a far wider berth!
So when the boat turned, Selma pinned under,
With my dear Selma free from under the boat
After dragging her heavy weight alone to the coast
Now with my son we mourn what couldn’t float
By Zachar Laskewicz
*A statement against the gendering of objects without grammatical function.
© May 2008 Nachtschimmen Music-Theatre-Language Nightshades, Ghent (Belgium)
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Last modified: 16 May 2013
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