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This slice of Gothic melodrama is almost certainly the product of an enterprising journalist or overly imaginative local blowhard, but in the absence of any other explanation for what happened that gruesome day on the “Glendower,” it has lingered ever since.I rise at eleven, I dine about two, I get drunk about seven, and the next thing I do, I send for my whore, when for fear of the clap, I spend in her hand, and I spew in her lap; Then we quarrel and scold, till I fall fast asleep, When the bitch growing bold, to my pocket does creep.De Graff ‘s background was and is a puzzle—virtually all we know of him is contained in the previous sentence—and although he was a strongly-built man with powerful arms and shoulders, he was also extremely hunchbacked.When the trio faced a Boston Grand Jury, it was brought into evidence that while Nilsen and Priskich bunked some distance away from the captain, De Graff’s cabin communicated with Wyman’s, enabling him to clandestinely enter Wyman’s quarters.The best his attorney could do for a defense was to suggest that a stowaway had secretly hidden aboard ship, slaughtered the captain for reasons unknown, and then managed to jump overboard and swim to shore unseen.He also pointed out that the murder must have been done by someone familiar with Wyman’s habits, and surely some secret lurker would be unable to know when the captain would be invisible to the rest of the ship.Catullus is one of the masters in Latin, but most English translations tone him down a bit.
Then crop-sick all morning I rail at my men, And in bed I lie yawning till eleven again. ) There seems to be little bawdy verse that I know by established poets - even this, attributed to John Wilmot, Earl of Rocester, seems not to be written by him.Do 'Spherians know any other famous bawdy verse like this, or is all the bawd from traditional verses like 'Friggin' in the Riggin' and 'The Good Ship Venus'? (A number of classical poets spring to mind, Catullus particularly...) I may, if you don't mind, add a little warning to the thread title...It may be that verses such as this are not anthologised for reasons of 'propriety'. Nigel NB: Alicia - if this is the wrong board for discussion, please move the thread. Nigel, I suggest you get your hands on the collected works of Lord Rochester, the master of bawdy verse in English.16 I'll bugger you and make you suck my cock, Aurelius and Furius, you queers.Then slyly she leaves me, and to revenge the affront, At once she bereaves me of money and cunt.
If by chance then I wake, hot-headed and drunk, What a coil do I make for the loss of my punk!