I left the slip in a small boat
With no oar or rudder to steer
On the knight’s castle moat.
The sail drooped, empty and sere.
I was drawn on, always slower —
A current from a series of weirs
Dropping me lower and lower.
I was passed by a fast ship.
Its captain made faces: grins, glowers.
I shot down another weir’s lip.
It took all I had to stay afloat.
Near sunset, I glided into the slip
Where I began this anecdote.
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