In the meantime, here is some poetry:
Qinqireme of of Ninevah from distant Ophir Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.
Stately Spanish galleon, coming home for Christmas, Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores, With a cargo of diamonds, Emeralds, amethysts, Topazes, and cinnamon and gold moidores.
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack Butting through the tropics on the mad March days, With a cargo of Tyne coal, Road-rail, pig-lead, Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.
Smart Miyuki Maru on Midsummer's evening Cruising down the river before London's eyes With a cargo of ladyboys Dominatrices and masters Slaveboys, schoolgirls and Ishmael Skyes.
John Masefield (but not the last stanza, obviously, and the bit about coming home for Christmas is a blatant piss take, before anyone points it out)