The Harbor Is Yours
Throw your babies in the air.
Dead men tell no tales.
Just up push the daisies till the soil is stale
In a padded blue tux for the farmer's sale
Mr. big sleep with the carp and kelp
Once upon a time in the days of yore
when the people lived fresh outta legend and folk lore
There was an old pirate who piloted a vile slang
had a bird perched on him and swash buckled the same
peg leg navigator starboard to port
by the nautical star Emmanuel an the harbor is yours
and you should tell them where you situate the gold
that is unless you’d like a vacation with davy j-j-j-jones.
like "walk the plank" for whom the shark thank
maroon the mutineers consume the souvenirs.
come all the shiny spoils piled higher every year
he was suffocating slow in the box of a buccaneer
ten summers prior on a night like this
crows nest scopes something afloat to the boats west
swore it blew him a kiss
when he focused saw the face of an angel upon the body of a
"What the heck!" grabbed for his telescope
shatter gathered himself
she was ghost he was down the rope latter
to deck circled the vessel the 360 swiftly
found nothing in the water but salt, piss and whiskey.
heckled by the swabbies at the bar,
he'll be the laughing stock of the barbary coast war
like this dude either got two glass eyes
or he wearing his patch on the wrong s-s-s-side
Now he knew what he saw
But had to prove he was raw
So he raped and he pillaged and
and he'd feud and he'd brawl
try to rekindle his rep via sabers and gun smoke
and vowed to always find her though he never told his cutthroats
Meanwhile, back in the now,
Got a brand new skeleton crew
On the move out
When they aren’t manning thirty burning cannons stern and bow
they are prying shiny metals out your m-m-m-mouth
Okay, youth wanes old age holler wisdom n disease
like the scurvy made his yellow gums bleed.
And he was aching from his boots to the feather in his cap
'til his quartermaster showed up with a stolen treasure map
One look down and leapt off the dock,
see if you can guess where X marked the spot
The capital was buried at sea in a cursed cave,
only one mile from where he'd seen the mer-mer-mer-maid.
anchors up, hoist the jolly roger thank you much.
day and night with his hook hands raised and clutched
but see the vitamin deficiency was strong
so by the time they bumped into the island he could barely lift his grog
crawled off the boat, collapsed in the sand
prayers in the air, seashells in his hand
And nary a high tide so grand
it’s the one that put the one that put
the lady of the lake on dry la-la-la-land
I wish i could tell you that it ended happy
pretend like his bones weren’t practically snapping
pretend like her gills didn't dry up and suffer
but that's a half-dead pirate and a fish outta water.
No lie, scout’s honor, got a million more
from the burgundy lighting above the shores of whores
before your delusions of grandeur go to swell those sails
remember that dead men tell no t-t-t-tales
walk the plank into the sea