A gibbeted pile of Scallywag bones
be no real kind of Warning,
nor Deterrent for a young lad’s heart
set upon following the Black Flag
… for any old fool knows full well,
it be the partaking of the Journey
not the Death or Glory Destination.
Ye can have your comfortable life,
forever keeping within sight
of that Village Clock of your birth
… married to childhood sweetheart,
and ploughing the very same fields,
for the next forty-odd precious years,
that we all once ran truant through.
I’m-a be having me some Adventure,
and if Danger comes, then so be it
… I’ll a-take me chances, happily.
Before the Rope, the Sea, or the Devil
whisks me up and takes me home
… to where the Ghosts do wail,
and the Skeletons shuffle along noisily
… I’ll have drunk every last Drop
of Experience that crosses my Path,
as I chase the wayward Sunset eagerly.
Nuh-uh, We Need Far More Skulls Than This, Matey
‘a Pirate needs his treasure, baby, and you’re mine X’ - message in a bottle found at Caswell Bay, Gower Peninsula, Swansea