The poem below was written as a request for a boat Robin saw on the dock at Seward that was named Rumdoodle’s Son. … so there ya go.
THE BALLAD OF RUMDOODLE'S SON
The portside is where his story began,
The son of a drunken fisherman,
In the water he was destined to be.
Early to rise and early to sea.
His father found him in his fishing net,
A little bit frozen, but mostly wet.
Rumdoodle raised the boy on his ship,
Becoming a man through every trip.
When their boat would dock seaside village,
Daddy Rumdoodle would drink til he spillage.
On one dark Alaskan winter night,
He drank too much and couldn't see right.
Rumdoodle steered the ship into ice,
With him and his son they paid the price.
Some claim if you look at the long night's sky,
You might get a show and see them sail drunkenly by.
Backstory on the poem below… the Aviator hotel screwed up our reservation majoraly and we almost had no where to stay on our last night. That’s the short version. 🙂
TAKE ME TO THE HOTEL MOTEL
Here she is like a dear old friend.
Bittersweet til the bitter end.
You don't have to go but you can't stay here.
Where will we go? We can't just disappear!
So we pause for a moment at the Inlet Inn.
Use the loo, have a drink, and just try to grin.
Lisbeth will take her hobo bath.
The Aviator will hear Adam's calm wrath.
It's a good thing we're an understanding bunch
Or someone might be on the other end of a punch.
But not Adam! We know, he's trying real hard.
To get us a room or even a tent in a yard.
Data miners convention has filled up the town
But Adam will avail. He won't back down.
Never thought we'd be happy to see this place again.
We've got rooms! Hallelujah! Can I get an amen!
Woah! Look at this! We've got Aviator's best.
Satin dust ruffles and an iron. We're so #blessed.
So here we are, the final day at last.
Thankful for our guide who's so steadfast.
Ms. Grace Face 