by A. M. Buxman
Brief poem about a world of pirates left behind and a new beginning in "pirate talk".
|I sat in the morning fog thinking over me tea,
O' that time when I felt entrapped and alone,
Lucky I was to rid me self of that ship; to flee,
Fer me name was soon to rest on thee stone.
Me life be now the opposite of what twas then,
I wake up excited to see what me day holds,
I no longer feel dread and sorrow within,
And this sprog o' mine is worth all thee golds.