When I was a lad,
I had dreams by the score;
To sail the blue yonder,
To plunder the shore;
To drink rum or whiskey,
on plank for a bench
And dance with the wives
or a jig with a wench.
Was never a captain,
was never a mate,
For a scurvy deck swabie,
was always my fate.
Thru many a gale,
Blimey how the winds blow!
I stuck to my post,
but why I don't know.
Then the captain would shout
"Lads, tis over the side!"
and o'er we would go
for a thumpin' grand ride!
We'd fight and do plunder,
for silver and gold,
and send to the deep
those who never get old.
For years our luck held,
or so they do say,
for none ever set eyes
on our old hideout bay.
Now my mates are all gone
like the ships from the dock.
Time sits on my face,
like the hands on a clock.
My legs are not sturdy,
I wear cotton and silk.
No longer drink whiskey,
but now I love milk.
Have a Jolly "Talk like a Pirate" Day!
Tim "Redbeard" McCarthy
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