Manifesto And Mission, Pirate Oaths Ii - Poem by Captain Cur
The sea's charm is soft and fluid
rocking ships within her arms,
I looked upon my vanquished crew's
dried lips and calloused palms;
they looked like waifs in parting winds,
fog that skims across the sea,
with lifeless eyes and scrawny limbs
gaunt forms that stared at me.
Pompeii called the men to Order;
I clasped hard my beating breast,
assembling round the Quarterdeck
stood, Ellias to my left.
'Quartermaster, roll call the men
with official rank to start.'
'Aye! ' that response their tongues did rend
those 'Ayes! ' that broke my heart.
Ellias, the Sailing Master,
observing the starboard tact
sometimes they call him 'Little Cur'
or 'Capt'n A' behind my back.
Soul, is the Malevolent's Boatswain
a pirate of farseeing sight
skilled in Art and musical strains,
carving sculptures with his knife.
Gustavus, 'Gusty' Pinter,
the Master Rigger of Sails,
his hands chafe like Old Man Winter,
his belly fat as a whale.
My Coxswain. Nathaniel Wright,
brightens spirits like the sun
charming stars he names in the night
as faring as he is young.
Kil Wisslair, the Malevolent's cook,
boasts French culinary skill,
one bad eye, one hand and a hook
rightly earned him his nickname, 'Swill.'
Cornelius Squib, Powder Monkey,
a burnished fuse for a wit,
maintains the canons in their sleeve
disarming as he is quick.
Fierce whitecaps were getting restless
swirling to marshal a force
but the wind just blew and hissed
and pushed hard our Westward course.
I unfolded my ancient chart,
a gift from a troublesome Muse
on there she scribed her Order's mark
with instructions linked in blue.
'Herein lies your first endeavor
this mission to win you your flesh
sail till your masts are tipped with fire,
do not falter in this test.
Find the light that terrifies men
when your sails and masts burn red
steady your souls and do not bend,
bring me the Demon Star's head.'
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