Once upon a midnight solemn
As I pondered empty column
While my microprocessor sat
Humming, humming on the floor
Rubbed my eyes to keep from sleeping
With my deadline slowly creeping
Jarred from sleep by backspace beeping
‘Til I hit ESCAPE once more
"I must have ideas," I muttered
"One or two or maybe more
Or my classmates I will bore"
Dimly, now, I can remember
I went through this last December
Then I rhymed for every member
Of the Class of ‘81
Now I find I’m deja vu-ing
Normal column I’m eschewing
‘Stead of simply here reviewing
Mail received by metric ton
Postage stamped and electronic
Mail received by metric ton
But to rhyme is much more fun
In the hallway glows the nightlight
Children snoozing out of my sight
I think hard and cogitate some
Musings full of wit and charm
While thesaurus I am touring
Comes a sound I’m not ignoring
Cloven hooves on hardwood flooring
Make me sit up in alarm
Then I sense an odor smelling
Just like livestock on a farm
Soon to cause olfact’ry harm
Presently, my stomach turning
From the smell, yet still I’m yearning
To discover where the sound and
Odor thus are coming from
In a sec my heart is stopping
Up the stairs the hooves are clopping
While my confidence is dropping
Dropping as my senses numb
What I see next mortifies me
More than just a modicum
Phantom goat that strikes me dumb
Not just any goat do I spot
But the ghost of Navy mascot
First adopted way back when in
Nineteen hundred zero four
Past me moves the form not talking
Gliding as in flight, not walking
Dead bolt I remember locking
Did he even use the door?
Meanwhile his angora hair is
Shedding, shedding on the floor
Wonder what he came here for
Spectral goat with horns of blue n’
Gold and muddy hooves that ruin
Carpet, but he doesn’t seem to
Care he just pokes ‘round the room
Now beside my light that’s dim, it’s
Haunches on my bust of Nimitz
Bursting Chester’s tensile limits
Plaster Five-star meets his doom
Sits there waiting, emanating
Eau de barnyard, his perfume
It’s a goat thing, I assume
Thus I sat with mascot hairy
Trying to seem ordinary
‘Stead of looking nervous while I
Tried to figure out his game
Suddenly a sound I’m hearing
Seems the goat his throat is clearing
And I’m thinking it’s appearing
Saying something is his aim
"I’m the ghost of long dead Navy
Mascots that all look the same
Bill the First would be my name"
Struck as if by clap of thunder
"What’s he want from me?" I wonder
"Wha’d I ever do to make this
Long dead goat come visit me?"
So I voiced my inquisition
To the shaggy apparition
His reply, an admonition,
"Hold your tongue and you will see
It’s our task to haunt this world and
Visit each Class Secret’ry
Been like that since ‘23"
"Truth be told, the job is gravy
Like most hitches in the Navy
And among the proud few green
Marines that sail across The Pond
Better still, I get per diem
Travel claims? Don’t never see ‘em
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner free
Amidst the saintly great beyond
‘Oer the years I’ve been to ev’ry
NAVSTA, here and tout le monde
Subs and CVs I have conned"
Furnished with this information
‘Bout divine appropriation
I resolved to chat with Bill the
First while I my column wrote
With his goatee on my shoulder
Opened the December folder
Therein lay a photo holder
With a picture and a note
Twas from Dan Quattrini living
Up in tundral Minnesote
From the text I now will quote
In July we had a visit
"Who stopped by?" you now inquisit
Dennis Murphy next to Quatty
With their kids in photo seen
Lest I keep you ever guessing
Salty Sam was PCSing
Off to Pearl soon berthing, messing
There upon his submarine
Silently and oh, so deeply
He’ll be running his machine
Uncle Hymie’s quarantine
Next agenda topic, babies
All agree, no ifs or maybes,
They’re so cute like Kelly and Mike
Mahre’s bouncing little lass
Mom and Dad, awake, not sleeping
Changing diapers, ever seeping
What they sowed they now are reaping
Daughter Morgan’s come to pass
2020’s not her vision
Seen through optometric glass
It’s her graduating Class
Last, Mike Kennedy is moving
Tailgate distance he’s improving
Somewhere between Baltimore and
Crabtown’s where you’ll find this guy
Flies commercial planes, twin-jetted
Service choice he’s not regretted,
Ever Navy Air indebted
Punches holes up in the sky
Write "Mike81@cs
i.com" and he’ll reply
To his Classmates, Mike says, "Hi"
Said the goat, "You’re quite the rhymer"
To the soon-to-be old timer
"But to sit and watch you type is
Partly what I came here for
Truth be told, I’m on a mission,"
Quoth angora apparition
"There’s an age old superstition
Started back in zero four
‘Cross the country, ‘cross the world we
Billy ghosts must haunt once more
Stop at each Class Secy’s door"
"As we do, and likewise, foolish
Sojourn ghosts, not goats, but mule-ish
Visiting your West Point counterparts
In CONUS and deployed
All us mascots out there trolling
Each and everyone cajoling
Your assistance we’re enrolling
To a ghastly fate avoid
All for one and one for all or
Else the magic spell’s destroyed
Fruit’s of vict’ry not enjoyed"
"Prithee, Bill, don’t speak in riddle
With my feeble mind, don’t fiddle
Tell me what you mean," said I, "And
Make it quick, It’s running late"
Quoth the ghostly goat, "Be chilling
And the blanks I will be filling
In with substance, if you’re willing
Now this task to contemplate
Put ‘Beat Army’ in your column
Do it now, don’t hesitate
Or we’ll face that ghastly fate"
"If all secy’s are complying
We will win instead of dying
On the gridiron when we face the
Mules from Pluto’s dark abode
But if just one scribe’s forgetting
‘Twill be goats’ blood they’ll be letting
Admirals best not be betting, lost financial mother lode
Likewise, ghost mules now exhorting
Theirs to the ‘Beat Navy’ mode
Seeds of our destruction sowed"
"Now our secret you are knowing
And, anon, I must be going
Off to visit ‘82 and Three before the night is done
Please remember what I’m saying
If one secy is not playing
Magic spell you’ll be betraying
Same as if it’s everyone
So take heed and write ‘Beat Army’
In your column, now, my son
See ‘ya later, gotta run"
Bill the First, his image fading
(And the odor, thus downgrading)
Cried out, "Don’t forget me, Eighty-one
Now get thee to thy chore"
With a whirl on castered chairing
At my monitor now staring
Got to type, no Solitaire-ing
All my classmates, I implore
If the goat’s words thus appear in
Columns young and old, galore
We’ll Beat Army evermore
Later, .