Our acquaintance was fate,
he served as first mate,
and there wasn't a fish that was safe.
He was tried and was trued,
came without a bad mood,
and never complained of foot chafe.
He's a good man to know,
who speaks rather slow,
and hunts stoves with best of the rest.
I'd steer and he'd stare,
tell stories and swear,
our friendship I'd never have guessed.
One might say he is gruff,
but don't care for stuff,
he is rich in love and in life.
I said farewell,
he just grunted "ah hell,"
and headed for home and his wife.
Lansing's now lonely,
and I am the only,
bound to do all the work by myself.
He forgot his green mug,
I've named it the Tug,
which sits solemnly upon his shelf.Lansing
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