The Man from Nantucket

Now... let's see. I am trying this with what most people would consider a hangover. Yesterday was opening day here at Sunny Rest Resort. I know, Sunny Rest sounds like a cheesy retirement home in a second rate B movie. But it's NOT. It may just be one of the coolest places in the northeast. They just did a lousy job of naming it 50 years ago. So it sounds like a sanitarium. Anyway, back to the blog...

Have you ever wondered how "The Man from Nantucket" poem ends? I have. It may be the most often begun - but never finished poem in history. Usually, on TV or in a movie, someone will start the first line of the poem, someone or something else will interupt him, there is usually a cheap laugh, and they never finish the poem. And it is always implied that the rest of the poem is dirty.

Well, whether it is my purient interest or otherwise, I did a little research. So here it goes. (O.K., I strike a pose: stand up straight, right foot in front of the left and slightly out-turned, shoulders back, chest out, hands clasped at breast, chin out... clear the throat and... begin.)

There was an Old Man of Nantucket
Who kept all his cash in a bucket.
His daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man --
And, as for the bucket, Nan took it.

Pa followed the pair to Pawtucket
(the man and the girl with the bucket)
And he said to the man,
"You're welcome to Nan."
But as for the bucket, Pa took it.

Then the pair followed Pa to Manhasset
Where he still held the cash as an asset
And Nan and the man
stole the money and ran
And, as for the bucket, the man has it.

There you have it. The first stanza is the very original, the following stanzas being added a little later. And they were all G-rated. So, why is there always an inference that the next words are about to be wildly inappropriate? Because like anything clean and pure and fun(ny), somebody always feels they have to drag it down to their level. Hence, were born a slew of bastardized ditties with which we are often teased by their first lines.

There was a young man from Nantucket
Whose dong was so long he could s**k it.
Said he with a grin,
As he wiped off his chin,
If my ear was a c**t I could f**k it.

Or:

There was an old maid in Nantucket
With an asshole as big as a bucket.
While bent over the oven,
A-dreamin' of lovin',
Her goat seized the moment to f**k it.

Or:

There was a young man of Nantucket,
Took a pig in a thicket to f**k it.
Said the pig with a grunt,
Get away from my c**t,
Come around to my front and I'll s**k it.

There are many other variants not worth mentioning, but you get the idea. Personally, I like the original best. I also like the idea that it was clean and that most of the people who just assume it was dirty are ill informed miscreants. For my final verse I'll leave you with one of my own creation and then I have to get to the pool.

There once was a poet and blogger,
Who wasn't a runner or jogger.
He'd spend all of his days
In an internet haze.
And when he was done he would log 'er.