Let me present to this royal court
the tale of the HMS Dichotomy,
brought before you all this day
as its crew needs a lobotomy.
For all the logic of seaward men
The Dicohomy openly flaunts
and the pow’r of God’s own physics
this damned ship sneers at and taunts.
She was built of timber in savage lands
curses laid upon the planks of her deck
a dark power that seized her wrights
until they all found escape by the neck.
The ship is seaworthy enough, tis a shock,
despite its non-Euclidean geometry.
It carries its conscripted souls safe and far,
that is, those souls that resist the urge to flee.
The masts were built on the underside,
sails replaced with the scales of a beast,
infernal machines that toil below.
She moves a fast clip, at the least.
The ships berth is no constant thing
unnatural rhythm of the hull’s breath,
until the men are kept up till late hours
contemplating the hell of this living death.
I beseech you, lords of the court, to find
in your deliberations the compassion
to scuttle this evil ship to the depths,
and never its like attempt to fashion.
And if you will not destroy it thus,
send it hence to the service of our foe,
for all the might of our royal navy
would ever cause them such depth of woe.