The Ship that Franky Built II

by Wanderingidealism

the edited and prettier version of "the Ship that Franky Built" One Piece is not mine, though I wish it was.the Poem itself, in the orignal form, In the House that Jack built, is a nursury rhyme that no one really knows the origins of if someone knows it's be nice to know so I can site it properly.

A poem modeled off the nursery rhyme, In the House that Jack Built. Eiichiro Oda owns one Piece, not I.- first the original rhyme-

This is the house that Jack built.

This is the malt –

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the rat,
That ate the malt -

That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cow with the crumpled horn,
That toss'd the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the maiden all forlorn,
That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the man all tatter'd and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the cock that crow'd in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That kill'd the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

This is the farmer sowing his corn,
That kept the cock that crow'd in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tatter'd and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.

A pattern of 7, 4, 8, 4, 5, and so on, repeating….. once it gets to the cow, syllables rise to ten

Now for my poem

In the Ship that Franky Built

This is the Ship that franky built.

This is the lion on the bow,

A mighty frame with a pointed mane,

That guides the ship Franky Built.

This is the captain,

that sits on the head,

of the mighty lion,

with the pointed mane,

That guides the ship that Franky built.

This is the Straw hat,

That two captains wore,

it sits on one's head

Who sits on the lion,

With the pointed mane,

Who guides the ship that Franky Built.

This is the swordsman,

Asleep on the deck,

Next to the captain

With the hat on his head,

Who sits on the lion with the pointed mane,

Who guides the ship that Franky built.

This is the navigator,

With a voice like a whip,

Who stands at the wheel,

Sailing the ship,

Across from the deck,

Where the swordsman sleeps,

Next to the captain, with the hat on his head,

Who sits on the lion with the pointed mane,

Who guides the ship that Franky Built.

This is the liar,

Spinning his tales,

Next to the wheel,

Where the navigator sails,

Across from the deck,

Where the swordsman sleeps,

Next to the captain with the hat on his head,

Who sits on the lion with a pointed mane,

Who guides the ship that Franky built.

This is the chef, off to the left,

Scolding the liar,

Spinning his tales,

To the left of the wheel,

where the navigator sails,

Across from the deck,

Where the swordsman sleeps,

Next to the captain with the hat on his head,

Who sits on the lion, with the pointed mane

Who guides the ship that Franky built.

This is the princess,

Far, far away,

Who thinks of the pirates every day,

Who laughed with the chef,

As he scolded the liar,

Who spun his tales,

To the left of the wheel,

Where the navigator sailed,

Across from the deck,

Where the swordsman slept,

Next to the captain,

With the hat on his head,

Who sat on the lion, with the pointed mane

Who guided the ship that Franky built.

This is the doctor, tiny and furry,

With antlers, mixing something in quite a hurry,

As the princess far, far away,

Thinks of the pirates, every day,

While the chef scolds the liar,

Spinning his tales,

To the left of the wheel

Where the navigator sails,

Across from the deck where the swordsman sleeps,

Next to the captain with the hat on his head,

Who sits on the lion, with the pointed mane,

Who guides the ship that franky built.

This is the Historian, once forlorn,

Who now lives on happily,

No longer alone,

As the princess far, far away,

Thinks of the pirates everyday,

and the doctor mixes things in quite a hurry,

And the chef scolds the liar,

Spinning his tales,

To the left of the wheel where the navigator sails,

Across from the deck where the swordsman sleeps,

Next to the captain,

With the hat on his head,

Who sits on the lion with the pointed mane,

Who guides the ship that Franky built.

This is the Musician, lost for fifty years,

Whose skeletal hands breathe music and cheer,

To the historian, once forlorn,

Who happily lives no longer alone,

As the doctor mixes

In quite a hurry,

As the Princess, far, far away,

Thinks of the pirates every day,

While the chef scolds the liar,

Spinning his tales,

To the left of the wheel where the navigator sails,

Across from the deck where the swordsman sleeps,

Next to the captain with the hat on his head,

Who sits on the lion with the pointed mane,

Who guides the ship that Franky Built.

This is the sea, lapping the sides,

Bearing the ship along its tides,

As the Musician plays songs,

Lovely and gay,

And the Historian hums along,

Seeing another day,

As the Princess, far, far away,

Thinks of the pirates, every day,

And the Doctor mixes something in quite a hurry,

While the chef scold the liar,

Spinning his tales,

To the left of the wheel,

Where the navigator sails,

Across from the deck where the swordsman sleeps,

Next to the captain, with the hat on his head,

Who sits on the lion with the pointed mane,

Who guides the ship that Franky built.

This is the man, with the hammer in hand,

Surveying his work, his hard-built plans,

Standing proudly on his ship,

Which the sea bears on her tides,

While the musician with the skeletal limbs,

Plays music that is never grim,

And the historian sometimes sings along with a grin,

While the doctor lessens his mixing pace

And continues his work with considerably less haste,

While a princess, far, far away,

Thinks of her Nakama,

with each passing day,

While the chef half-heartedly scolds the liar,

Who is spinning his tales,

To the left of the wheel where the navigator sails,

Across from the deck where the swordsman sleeps,

Next to the captain, with the hat on his head,

And adventure in his eyes,

who sits on the lion with the pointed mane,

who guides the ship, a duty born with pride,

That was made in the wake of pain,

Of the loss of another, a merry goat-ship,

Remembered forever by those who now sail,

On the ship that Franky built.

I really hope people liked this. Got the idea partially from a fanfict thta was The Night Before Christmas, Strawhat Style, and partially from the fact I love poetry and that this needed to be done.

sorry about any mistakes... it was hard to write!