The Black Spot

I did as was granted by letter of marque
Now there’s never no rest for this tired old shark
Every sin in my past is a rock in my sack
And I carry it thus, and it’s breaking my back.

I took off to roam and I’ve traveled the world
I’m looking for home and my one true girl
But harbor to harbor they’ll harbor me not
I’m sent back to sea like some damned Argonaut

I keep my head low and my shoulder to wheel
In hopes I can shake off the dogs at my heel
But a home nor a true love is never my lot
There’s naught but the chase when you’ve got the Black Spot

For a night or a week I may find some sweet girl
Then the lock will be changed and I’m out like a churl
And I’m sailing away with the turn of the tide
They’ve drained me and brained me and cast me aside

It starts with a whisper way back in the room
The shadows grow longer and thicken the gloom
Every crime is exposed that I’d hoped was forgot
And each hand that is offered will hold the Black Spot

And the Black Spot will follow wherever I go
Like the plague, like the night, a malevolent crow
I refused to obey and I wont be forgave
But I’ll not be mistaken for anyone’s slave
Now there’s no peace for me, there’s no island or cave
And my mates and my lovers lie under the waves
And one day there’s one final Black Spot on my grave.

Published by Nitro von Borax

The Mighty Arthammer of Rev. Nitro von Borax AKA Captain Sugarbeard strikes the Anvil of Universal Consciousness, forging Iconic Singularities of Metaphor in piratical performance, pen-and-ink, poetry, painting, prose, photography and pasquinian palaver.

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