This be a pirate saga.

As an attempt to find ideas in which to write about I have taken drastic measures. I have flipped randomly to a page in my dictionary and will write a short saga relating to the first word on that page. Unfortunately that word was placenta. Not a particularly poetic word. The only thing I can think of off hand that rhymes with it is magenta. I think maybe I'll get a different word. AH! Here we go Pirate. An honorable and poetic word if I have ever seen one. If you've ever wondered what the definition of pirate is the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines it as Pirate; one who commits piracy. . . ummm. . . WELL DUH!!! I can write a ten times better definition than that.


Pirate; one who sales the high seas liberating wee vessels from their burdens, often speaks in strange undistinguishable accents that usually come out as a gruff mix of a leprechaun, a welsh fisherman, and an old western barkeep.


And har be the saga. . .

I once be a pirate,
a slave of the sea,
and better a sailor,
thar ne'er shall be.

I had the finest of crews,
they couldn't be beat,
through the coldest of winters,
and sweltering heat.

Our ship was The Sealion,
a brave little boat,
no matter the peril,
she’d still stay afloat.

But on the stormiest day,
that I e’er be seein’,
my ship met ‘er match,
in the east Caribbean.

My crew lost their lives,
to that fateful deluge,
and the ocean was dyed,
a deep crimson rouge.

Though my men were all lost,
I alone sailed on,
as I stood at the helm,
with naught but my brawn.

All by my wee lonesome,
for six days and six nights,
I battled that storm,
with all of me mights.

Crashing down on my hull,
came that storms final wave,
and The Sealion sank,
to a watery grave.

My pirating ended,
that horrific December,
the day that I died,
I will always remember.

As I drink this here rum,
and I tell ye this tale,
I pass on the saga,
of God’s mightiest gale.

THIS HER SAGA BE ENDED.