For George, the finest godson since the invention of godsons

My father’s an eminent sailor,
though I’m not sure what eminent means
I think it’s his work clothes are tailored
and he doesn’t commute wearing jeans

His hair’s short and straight, it’s not wavy
it’s not spiked up or permed, it’s not curled
‘cos you have to be smart in the Navy
when you’re travelling all ‘round the world.

My Dad says he’s sailed the ocean
But the ships these days haven’t got sails
There’s engines that give the ship motion
It isn’t reliant on gales

He once said he ‘steamed’ into port but
he wouldn’t explain it, he weaselled
I don’t think there’s steam engines now though
But it just sounds wrong when you say ‘dieselled’

I’ve sailed with my Dad – in a dinghy
It’s quite like a frigate, but smaller
I’d quite like to captain the warship
but my Dad says you have to be taller

My Dad says it’s war every Thursday
when they’re training the Captains at sea
In the city, Mum says, war is five days a week
Which sounds a lot harder to me

In the city though guns aren’t encouraged
The only shells you see come with your lunch
and I’d rather fire salvos of missiles and rockets
than worry about credit going ‘crunch’

For now though there are things more important
Affairs of great import to me
Like isn’t it time we got a puppy ?
And what am I having for tea ?