Marooned
Here I be marooned
On this desert isle,
Yar, lucky me
I got the piles.
All me ship mates
I don't know, where they be,
The latrine seems so far away
And I'm stuck with no t.p.
Me beard has its own cobwebs
Hasn't been washed for years,
Me thinks it has its own mouth
As it drinks all me whiskey and beers.
Me parrot took off
He got upset with me,
Me wouldn't give him crackers
Yar, 'tis upsetting, to watch him flee.
Me treasure is buried
Beneath the hot sand,
Me shovel, 'tis broken
And me too lazy, to use me hands.
It's not that me mind being stuck
On this desert isle,
But, life can be a little hard
When there's no t.p. and yar @rse has the piles.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
July.23/2006
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Marooned
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