Moving On

There was a young man from Nantucket Called Allan or something I think He carried moonshine in a bucket In case he was needing a drink For years he would wander Nantucket There wasn't much else he could do He kept on refilling the bucket And sharing his drinks with a few The citizenry of Nantucket All wanted his drinking to cease His singing of odes to his bucket Meant they didn't get any peace A bus ticket out of Nantucket Has brought them an end to the pain The odes that he sang to his bucket Now bother the people of Maine