Location: the waves, the ocean

Hoist the sails, raise yer bloody goblets, ahoy & onward me laddies!

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Where be ye, lads?

Where now the green fields, aye, & Elysian shores, lads? Where the verdure of the petulant summer o'er the shadows that speckle the sand? A lair for a pirate, aye, when all around me, all all around me, methinks me sees meself in a culture that I know naught of. 'Tis a prayer, lads, to call a pirate's life a glamorous one, aye, for what of travail & strife & stress & stormy sea & murder & treachery & treason & mutiny know ye? What then of a parrot's blood, of 'is feathers in yer teeth, of the spotted wave-arms where yer patch brings it nigh or renders it a blur in the distance with no warning, lads? What of long months in the cabin when monsoons strike unrelentless, of dark nights atop the crowsnest in the wind, of lonely diddies sung for ears that hear naught of the sweet melodies? If ye be among they who deem me life, the life of a pirate, one of glamour & honor & valor, ye be a pernicious fool. Aye, a pirate's life be not for all, lads, but for me, I can haver no other.


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Anonymous Old Yogurtship said...

Great bit of blogging! I've just chopped off me arm and offered the dripping stump to me parrot, barbara.

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