bordello.html

---
title: Bordello
description: A poem by C. Robert Hilton.
keywords: poem,poetry,sea poetry, robert hilton, Robert Hilton, Hilton, hilton
layout: hh
---

<p>At anchor waiting to enter harbour. Twenty-eight
<br>days at sea and all of us randy as cats. The wind
<br>carrying from shore the remembered smell of a
<br>tropical port; humanity, rancid cooking and the
<br>intimate juices of women.</p>

<p>A whole day with the lure of land so near,
<br>You’d think we’d all jump overboard and swim.
<br>With adverse winds and weather icy, grim,
<br>A month at sea is easier to bear.</p>

<p>Ashore we find a rough and ready bar,
<br>A broken chair leg on a table top,
<br>Rough walls where lizards dart about and stop.
<br>Some greasy fellow plays on a guitar.</p>

<p>And girls of every shape and size and price,
<br>Each one a beauty, we so long at sea,
<br>Knowing at once we’re seamen on a spree,
<br>Smile promises of instant paradise.</p>

<p>Joe with the cowboy boots is first away.
<br>He’s got himself the flashest girl of all.
<br>Small bedroom doors are all along one wall,
<br>One shuts on them, he’s not afraid to pay.</p>

<p>Charlie complains that he can’t understand
<br>A word of what these Spanish lasses say.
<br>Sign language is the order of the day,
<br>A touching message from a roving hand.</p>

<p>A girl leans forward, cleavage like a chasm,
<br>Across the table towards Dave and Bill.
<br>They seem to reckon it an extra thrill
<br>To bargain, half in fun, for an orgasm.</p>

<p>Brian says he likes the slender willowy kind,
<br>But always seems to land some big fat cow,
<br>And look, by God, one’s fairly got him now.
<br>A door slams shut. He didn’t seem to mind.</p>

<p>Joe’s back (so soon!) a look of utter loathing
<br>Distorts the face of this self styled big spender.
<br>Cosmetics no more guarantee the gender
<br>Than the blonde wig and girliest of clothing.</p>

<p>I like to think myself detached and wise
<br>Watching the lads relaxing from the sea.
<br>A quiet girl approaches, she could be
<br>The sort that still looks good to morning eyes.</p>

<p>Days later and our ship still lying here.
<br>Most of our hard won wages spent and gone.
<br>But girls we spent with still linger on
<br>And treat us to a glass or two of beer.</p>

<p>You wouldn’t find such kindness and fair play
<br>In Liverpool, New York or London Town.
<br>These lovely Latin girls don’t do us down.
<br>They know they’ll get our money any way.</p>

<p align="right"><small><i>&copy;2008 C. R. Hilton</i></small>