The Whalebone.
In Moby-Dick Melville describes the skeleton of a sperm whale washed up on the north sea coast and claimed by the Lord Paramount of the Seigniory of Holderness: ‘Sir Clifford’s whale has been articulated throughout; so that like a great chest of drawers, you can open and shut him, in all his boney cavities – spread out his ribs like a gigantic fan – and swing all day up on his lower jaw. […] Sir Clifford thinks of charging twopence a peep at the whispering gallery in the spinal column; threepence to hear the echo at the hollow of his cerebellum; and sixpence for the unrivalled view from his forehead.’
Does a good pint of Hoegaarden.
2 comments:
Dear David! I made a Ukrainian translation of your haiku "I’m beached on the bar, / a Whalebone whale. When it spouts / my blowhole spouts beer.": http://levhrytsyuk.blogspot.com/2011/05/blog-post_16.html. :-)
That's very kind of you, and worth a pint of Zhiguli any day, I'm sure.
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