Piratical Poetry

On odd occasions I am subject to random bursts of poetry, which usually come at the most inconvenient times. For instance, I was writing a note on a very small card attached to my friend's Christmas present when the following poem hit me. Needless to say, I had to get a bigger card.

SO YE BE WANTIN’ TO BE A PIRATE!

The pirates, aye, though they be the scurviest dogs in the land,

There’s far more to bein’ a pirate than a cutlass in your hand.

So if ya be wantin’ to be a pirate, qualifications you hafta meet:

Number One: You must have a heart that’s black as the boots upon your feet.

But in a pinch, I suppose, a greyish heart will do…

That bein’ said, ahem, we’ll go on to Number Two.

A pirate, aye, to sail the seas, must have a witty brain,

And a pirate without guts and pluck would be a cryin’ shame.

You hafta stomach fish for breakfast, lunch, and sometimes tea;

An expert now at swilling grog a pirate needs must be.

Swabbin’ decks and countin’ booty are chores that hafta happen,

So a sturdy back is a must to have- unless you’re the Pirate Cap’n.

Important of all, if ye be wantin’ to join our grubby crew,

Ye must be, above all else, a matey that’s brave and true;

For friendship, aye, that’s the grog that fills the pirate’s cup.

Now lookin’ at this here pirate list, how do ye measure up?

ARRR, YE BE A FINE PIRATE!

 

 By the way, the poem is much better if you imagine it being said by a small child wielding a plastic sword and speaking in a fake Scottish accent. I bet I could make a children's book out of that...