Captain John, the royal navy; dreaded Brig the buccaneer
Faced off near a desert island, neither man planning to veer
A message to the Captain scratched by Brig’s black fingernail
Written in the darkest pitch on a hoisted mizzen sail
“A sabre at your feet and a white flag unimpaired
Surrender the chest of gold and your ship will be spared”
John, forty years a sailor, who was called by no man frail
Soon replied in matching fashion with his own black pitch and sail
“A mounted broadside cannon and three hundred rounds that fit it
This gold belongs to the kingdom, if you want it come and get it”
Brig, smirking at the reply, his teeth gold or rotted out
Wrote out his second message and then spun his ship about
“Not my first stolen chest, galleys sunk off many shores
My pirate ship’s equipped with FOUR broad cannons such as yours”
Sensing the battle coming, John saw fit to fire first
Soon the ocean waves were drowned out by the sound of cannon burst
With splashes in the water John raised up his telescope
And saw Brig’s latest message hanging from the main mast rope
“A backwards facing captain, a gunner without a clue
Your cannon balls all missed me so nah-nah nah-nah boo”
Soon Brig returned the favor and the cannonballs did fly
With four times as many cannons, the white smoke filled up the sky
A blast rocking the hull, took John for a moment off his feet
When he rose a fourth Brig message, written on a plain white sheet
“An arrow into a bullseye, a popup to a mitt
You’re taking on water fast, that was a direct hit”
Seizing his moment, Brig brought his ship within reach
No help for John on the horizon, just that one lone island beach
Swinging over the gap on John’s ship Brig did land
But no one was on board; this had not gone as he’d planned
He found the chest of gold, but still no sign of Captain John
But back on his own ship a brand new message had been drawn
“A kamikaze breech blast, a firework indoors
While you’re looting my ship I’ll be sinking yours”
Seizing up the chest in the shipwreck soon to be
Brig grabbed the mainsail mast line and prepared to cut it free
Gritting his rotten teeth with a burning sense of loss
He scribbled one last message before swinging back across
“From my first dawn to my last, this pirate life I choose it!
There’s a sabre at your side, I hope you’re trained to use it!”
Fighting on the deck, Captain John sure held his own
But their time was running out, the whole bilge it had been blown
With water to their ankles, each watched the others’ choice unfold
Captain John ran to the row boat, dreaded Brig ran to the gold
With John rowing away, Brig dragged his stolen chest to shore
Soon finding under the lid, John had prepared one message more
“A peacock to a blind man, a bullhorn to a mute
There’s nowhere on this island to spend your pirate loot”