The Doomed Groom

The ocean speaks in rhymes
a mariner oft said sometimes
the queer eye tracking my gait
I was on my way to the wedding
I was already late. He reeks of rum
I mistook him for another bum
Water, he said, water everywhere
Let go of my arm you fool, I am
not going to stand here listening
as you go on with spittle and drool!
There was a ship! says he. I bet there
was but I feel trapped by his madness
already, the bells toll and the bride
walks down the aisle to find no groom
for his is trapped outside listening
to his impending doom.