My dear, this admiral whose name is Harte
Has made his mark upon the service, true--
Yet finally, he's just a blue French fart.
Who drives his mismatched wife to play the tart?
And persecutes poor Babbington so true?
My dear, the admiral whose name is Harte.
In service to the king he's done his part,
And surely freeing slaves is fine to do--
Yet finally, he's just a blue French fart.
Who wears the cuckold's horns with vengeful heart?
And in his crew such rancor doth imbue?
My dear, the admiral whose name is Harte.
He stymied Aubrey's rise right from the start
And pimped Fanny to Wray without a clue--
This venal, scurvy son of a blue French fart.
And who has much vainglory in his heart?
And died a hero when his last ship blew--?
My dear, the admiral whose name is Harte:
In the end, the son of a blue French fart.
© 2004 Randal Allred