The ice on the inlet had just thawed a bit.
The Cap'n and crew were anxious to split.
The Frigate had idled through a long winter storm
The rum was depleted, the air finally warm.
"Hoist up the sails and tie off the spurs!
Weigh the damned anchor, you scofflaw-in' curs.
There's wenches and treasures beyond this calm wake
And maybe a tin of the precious black cake.
We went to the pier to get the last barrel
Of smoke to the hold before we set sail
When we saw a form sitting square on the top
Clutching a briar and a bag full of cobs.
"Who be that varmint 'tween us and the Frigate?"
I shouted while raising me blade for a big hit.
"Loadclear's the name," as he puffed out a cloud
"I'm diggin' yer leaf," and he leaped down and bowed.
I peered at the coxswain and halted me hilt
And steadied me stance lest the grog cup be spilt.
"What can you offer this vessel o' freaks?
Can you patch the sails or the hull when she leaks?"
"I can make beer, tho it might taste of bleach :mrgreen:
or help you drag treasure from off of the beach.
I won't eat your eggs or tomatoes at all
I got me own pipes and I know how to brawl.
We ran up the gangway and climbed the port rail
And sought out the Captain preparing to sail
He fired up a yachtsman and eyeballed the man.
"Well, what'll it be, boy? The ship or the land?"