'Twas the rum before sundown and all through the
yacht,
the Usual Suspects were enjoying a tot.
It wasn't their first nor would it be their last,
and they recalled that the best one was the one in their glass.
The Round Man had poured them with care and precision,
while dodging the H'ors D'oeuvres chef thus avoiding a collision.
"Tiny" declared Rob, "this spread is
delicious",
"Gord, after we're finished, will you do the dishes?"
The Parrot Heads sang to the song about fins,
and a new one from Becket about a small pin.
They recounted their day and stories of old,
then grafted some new ones that had yet to be told.
A little bit later the sun started to sink,
and
they hoped that the Round Man would refill their drink.
Their wish was soon granted and up came four "splash",
just as the sun dipped to show the Green Flash.
After the bevies it was time for a nap,
a fresh shower, clean clothes and a refill perhaps.
Dingy in for dinner, cause a little commotion,
but only just enough to set the game plan in motion.
In the wink of an eye and the flash of a grin,
new friends had been found, "let the bullshit begin!"
The stories came fast and the stories came furious,
and all through the performance the new friends were curious.
Are these guys for real? Could this really be true?
How come I don't have this much fun with my crew?
Eventually it was time to head back to the boat,
to recant the evening and make a few notes.
Then get ready for tomorrow, another big day,
of living the stories the Usual Suspect way.
But prior to sleeping, as they lay in their cot,
they remembered their friends and in unison thought,
"Hey every body, we're here, and you're not."
