Benn Gunn

Benn Gunn Precious alone here I dwell, gently rusting in solitude. All withered, all quivered, to love you, if ... I had half a chance. Mine island twould be, could be but paradise. Hey I say! Nay I say! Its ‘em dead pirates, who in mine infernal dreams, search , seek me. So, Ben Gunn half a man, became a prophet. With rag tag beard, talks to himself does he? Does me? Fer tis good and mad I be. Many many years to sit and stare, stare far out to sea. Seeking the love of God. Fancy I to spy, a sail or snail. Silver, I hated ‘im, but wish with all mine heart a pirate’s heart, all torn black and blue, the buccaneer was here too. Oh! T’would be mine friend, like you. Now tis windy in ‘em hollows a devil dwells there, wickedness itself. I’m a feared till morn, fer in mine crusty, rusty dreams, a one legged man is born. When ya mad, ya humble, and wear a pirate’s hat. When ya sad, you’ll stumble, watched by the eyes of a large red cat. Precious alone here I dwell, gently rusting in solitude. All withered, all quivered. to love you, if ... I had half a chance.