JOLLY ROGER

 

There before the mast lay he

with flesh torn from his bone,

A pitiful and bloody sight

for one without a home.

This then, was his punishment

for hauling orders slow

A cat-o-nine laid cross his back

that all his mates should know,

 

There was no slack from punishment

upon this fated ship

That sailed for duty and for shame

by virtue of the whip.

A bucket of salt water thrown

upon his bleeding back,

No doubt would sting to high heaven

but did not bring him back.

 

There the seaman, now dead to all

lay still oozing red,

And to this end they all might come

lest they revolt instead.

But mutiny is a hard crime

with hanging at its end

But on this privateer there was

no honor to defend.

 

The captain in his cabin

poured over dates and maps,

His bloody hands and bloody heart

cared not for seaman's taps.

His cruel heart and his cruel ways

were that of the old sea

And cast about a seaman's corpse

as though it's life were free.

 

In that aftermath, the mates felt sound

that they had gained their way

And that the crew, now in repentent,

would do as they might say.

 

The first mate kicked the run-about

for scrubbing salty decks

To rid the blood of their shipmate

that soaked into the wreck.

From this the first mate suffered much

below his twitching eyes

For there the seaman sliced him up

without a groan or cry.

 

Then seaman, to the second mate,

did wrench him from the wheel

And with a rope around his throat

then hauled him down the keel.

And when at last the line came to

he bobbed and swayed about

For sure, the bottom half was gone

with all his innards out.

 

At last, there in his cabin fine,

the Captain heard the noise

And came on deck with guns in hand

to end the deck hands joys.

 

"Now which of yea, my fellows bold,

would come to eat some lead

And join my first mate, mortified

who lies there surely dead?

Speak up, my boys, I'm only one

but a fine one as you know

Who speaks for you, my merry boys

so I can lay him low?"

 

"I be the common rascal sir,

I speak for these men here.

It was the first mates sorry fault!"

and all the men did cheer.

'Twas he who kicked the runabout

for reasons less than none.

It was he maligned all of us

in his course of fun.

As you have killed my first mate here

and the second mate, too

So shall be your punishment

the sea shall now have you."

 

And with that, two guns in his hands

and two more in his belt

He motioned to the spokesman of

the men so cruelly dealt.

"Now walk that plank you scurvy pig

or die by my hand here

Which do you favor least and most?"

then came the seaman near.

 

"If you shoot me or cast me out,

then by my mothers' grave,

All these men that you've mistreated

shall repay you what you gave."

 

The Captain stood a moment more

then fast, the lunatic

Shot the spokesman in the mid

and then withdrew a bit.

"Stay where you are my handsome boys,

or who would be the next?"

The crew stared solemnly at him

more than a bit perplexed.

 

Another man came to the front,

there to have his say,

"It's kill us now or later sir,

this dog will have its day!"

"Then have it here and damn your eyes!"

the Captain screamed aloud,

But before he could pull a shot

he succumbed to the crowd.

 

Most swiftly done, the mast was held,

the Captain was to blame

And for his sentence, up the mast

in ropes and black iron chain.

There to stand the masthead watch

for all eternity.

There to ponder fame gone by

and hunger for his tea,

There to weather his fine skin

by breezes sharp and dry,

There within his eyes, the sin

that none could deny.