There was a true fish among our crew:
A gypsy, a hadji, a wandering Jew -
A beachcomber, gadabout, but no fool,
she had once enrolled in a great school,
Where in her spare time she played backgammon
And some chess. She was a Chinook
Such a sharp, quick, sparkling student was she
That from school she earned an advanced degree
In navigation. She probed
And searched the stars. She had an eerie gift
Of memory. She could recall the place, the very spot
Where she was born. No, she had not forgot
Though years had passed and she was far at sea
Her brook of birth:
She kept it lovingly.
So she studied the sun's polarized light,
And how to guide herself by it; at night,
use her nose. For her river of birth,
She was taught in school, was unique on earth.
Each whiff, speck, snip, spot,
Each whit, trace, touch, tinge, or scintilla
Of odor from her stream she'd know at once.
For she would
not leave that school a dunce.
And so, soon upon her graduation
She left with her peers on a migration.
charted a course 'cross a stretch of sea,
Sniffing each streamlet and tributary
Up and down the coast. Many miles
did they roam:
"LETS GO ON. THIS ONE DOES NOT SMELL LIKE HOME!"