bein' a pirate is ill will and irate.tis not always guns a firin.my gold is buried, my women are harried and fernandina crabs i carry.if you want a lunch it'll be a munch, least of all it'll be a bunch.so wont you join in with 10 soiled men and be the pirate who toils for sin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem