My son Jack (he’s 5) has been really into children’s poems lately. Not the fluffy stuff, but the kind written by Shel Silverstein, Roald Dahl and others. Jack especially likes the pirate poems (like this one) so we’ve been working on a few of our own. They’re nothing too special, just some fun poems for the gCaptain members with small kids.
And they are both a work in progress… so feel free to suggest changes to the poems or add your own. Just keep in mind they are meant for small kids
I want to be a pirate
I want to be the pirate Dread
And wear skulls and crossbones on my head
With a scar on my eye
My rivals shall die
But with a wink and a blink
It will end as I [I]think[/I]
I’d rather be home eating pie
A pirate I always wanted to be
A pirate on the high seas
But a dentist I was
And the closest I came
was hearing the patient’s owweees
A ship, A ship… in sailed a ship
Had my wishes finally came true?
Yes, I’d join the crew
but the pirates life wasn’t for me
No I should never have left for the sea
If you’re going to be a pirate
As a lookout you’ll want to go
For you might fall from the mast
from a cannon ball’s blast
But you’ll be loved when you say Land-HO
If you’re going to be a pirate
Be a cook with an anchor tattoo
For you’ll be off the deck
and never risk your neck
Unless the crew thinks your food tastes like poo
If you’re going to be a pirate
you’ll want to be an AB
for you’ll get many breaks
and eat the hotcakes
and you’ll never be lonely
If your going to be a pirate
a Captain you’ll want to be
you’ll give orders all day
as you lounge on some hay
and with no one you’ll have to agree.
But never go as a dentist
A dentist you don’t want to be
For no pirates brush
and no pirates floss
neither above nor under the sea
So I write this in mourning and as a stern warning
For the Captain today said his teeth where ok
But this just wasn’t true, his teeth where askew
And where rotting and filled with decay
Oh my, oh my what to say?
His teeth really looked like puree.
So I sat him down in my chair
and began the repair
but with the first yank
I was sent to the plank
and I died with little fanfare
I worked as Purser on a restored passenger ship called the Balmoral( part of the Waverley paddlesteamer preservation society) and here is my poem from then called
No Refunds
The wind has started turning as you sail across the sea,
Your stomaches started churning, whete is the lavatory?
You wish you now had stayed at home taking your friend’s advice.
But you can’t tell a landlaubber that cos you thought it would be nice.
So when you’re leaning over the side and feeling rather faint
Spare a thought for our ships crew, please miss the fresh white paint!
And when you’re half way through your cruise and find you cannot stick it
Don’t blame us on the Balmoral…
It wasn’t us who bought your ticket!