“Avast ye, me hearties! A ship to starboard!
And she’s loaded with spices and silk!”
“Do you think they have cream?” A pirate implored;
“I prefer cream in tea, over milk.”
The mate and the swabs chewed upon their hard tack
With cutlasses sharpened, and knives:
(Though some of them knitted , and some played with jacks,
And some wrote sweet poems to their wives.)
The salt in the air and the wind in your hair
All the secrets and strength of the sea
The Hoist of the sail and the spout of the whale
And the life of a Pirate is free
The rum that we drank and the noose and the plank
All ye buccaneers, swashbuckling savages,
Horizons are open, we’re all of us hoping
That we’re free to relent from the ravages
And heal from our various damages
The parrot croaked, “murder!” and epithets foul,
And the Captain lit candles in beard
And adjusted his eyepatch, his hook and his scowl,
And thought about wenches, and leered.
But the swabs were distracted by talk of ballet,
And the mate had to check on his fern,
The gunners were busy with their macrame,
And the pies in the oven would burn.
Soon the ship with rich booty was too far to see,
And the Captain he hung up his hook,
And sat down to crumpets and cupcakes and tea,
And read a nice romantic book.