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.
In 1968, a group of American political revolutionaries called The White Panthers* , lived in a collective at 1510 & 1520 Hill St. Ann Arbor, MI.
Although they performed valuable civic services like bombing the regional office of the CIA, and spawning the MC5 and Iggy & the Stooges, they were harsh on the collective’s children; they forbade them to watch the corporate tool Bozo the Clown on the small black and white TV, forbade them eat the colorful and sugared cereals available to the general American Public, but instead fed them meagre portions of like, bulgar, forbade them from playing merrily in the realistic grenade crater they’d painstakingly dug in the front yard as a war protest, and administered other privations too numerous to mention.
One of the youngest, shanghaied members of this commune was the still-beardless Sugarbeard. And from him they took a treasured Story Album, because he’d driven them all insane with hundreds if not thousands of serial iterations of the Pirate Side with the turntable set on auto-return-and-repeat.
Wounds suffered in childhood swim deeply forever in the darkest fathoms of consciousness, dude
The Queen’s Revenge hereby restores this excellent if severely abridged version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island, Narrated by Sir Donald Wolfit, for the delectation of the arbiters of zeitgeist & in hopes of finding some kind of closure, like that’s even possible when thus traumatized by hippies
*”The White Panthers” was Huey P Newton’s Idea, but later they were “The Rainbow People’s Party” because maybe not Huey P Newton’s Best Idea
Pirates don’t recognize, respect or reflexively obey conferred authority. Except as it be deemed advantageous or at least equitable, Pirates will pay little attention to Kings, Queens, CEOs, Ghosts, Wizards, or Celebrities. Even the Captain of the ship serves only at the crew’s command, as the Captain that serves the adventure best.
Pirates don’t recognize caste. The bigger the Pirate Fleet the better. Pirates don’t see race, gender, religion, hair color, hat size, or quantity of limbs: if you’ll join the crew and fight by our side, you’re welcome aboard.
Pirates are refugees and renegades. Pirates are arbitrarily persecuted by a flotilla of adversaries. Pirates have been dispossessed and disowned by agents of the dominant paradigm, enraged by the Pirate’s natural rebellious instinct for self-preservation and self-determination. Pirates fight, against all odds, because they are odd.
Pirates may have unconventional methods of acquiring the Booty they need to sustain and flourish. Pirates don’t see Theft as differing substantially from Business, in the midst of this conflagration of end-stage capitalism and imperialism. Until you’ve assured that they’re well-fed, happy and in safe harbor, what’s yours might be theirs.
Pirates live and die by The Pirate Code. To be clear, is NOT to be clearly understood whether there is One Pirate Code, or as many Pirate Codes as there are Pirates, so be careful in dealings with Pirates: they don’t care about your conventions, expectations, or rules. They’re Pirates.
AR! Beware, ye Swabs. The Queen’s Revenge will ravage LIVE through Downtown Saline’s Salty Summer Sounds Event on Thursday June 30, 2022, From 7:00-900 PM. LIVE REAL ROCK PIRATES! ARR! The Queen’s Revenge features The Dreaded Captain Sugarbeard on Vox Cerulean Cholmondeley (pronounced: Chumley) Jäänsen on Gtr Count Lowe Tyde on Drum and The Honorable Justin Kase-O’Skurvy on Bass. Or Something Like That. ARRRR! Performing Original Pirate Rock on the stage in Downtown Saline- on Ann Arbor-Saline Road just North of Michigan Avenue, preceded by gorgeous Sea Shanties from Special Guest Mermaid Beam.