Over the landscape with lightening raging, Zig zaging to ground. I stand to leeward of granite mounds. Ahoy! I’m Barrington bound.
Out of the way you land lubbers give way, As we shimmer and slide up the Buckets Way. Come up beside me and ill keel haul you today!
Heave too! Craven the Raven is running, With eastern down & sail of all manner. A few more nautical miles to hammer.
With our metal bow busting, salt weather has been rusting. Anchors a way! , camping’s the way. Gloucester tops ahhhhh me mates!
Scenery so sheer! Embossed and emblazed granite Barrington Mountains. There treasure in them hills!
Heave too! , down with the sail. Ashore we go. Camping ground echo's with sound. Land lubbers camping, With yarns a flowing, fires glowing. Nestled aside me Gleaming Gloucester River.
We'll bellow and ale to the moons real pale. Up comes the sun, All Opossum have retreated. Me story is near done. Ghosts all grey, on steep hills side. Was it a kangaroooo to the camp site they stray?
