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Poem
I’ll take you back, to the old dark times,
To try and paint you a picture. 
A tale of a man, just sixteen years old,
Who had a bit too much liquor.

1706, is the year we shall set, 
As the young man woke himself up.
He found himself on a sailing ship,
Whilst holding a silver cup.

His clothes were ragged, as was his smell,
As he wearily opened his eyes.
He was lay on some sacks, of wheat and hay,
As he looked up to dark grey skies.

He’d drunk too much rum, the night before,
His head was banging like drums.
He looked down to his feet, then to his hands, 
To make sure he had his fingers and toes.

‘Alas, he’s awake!’ He heard someone shout,
As he cradled his banging sore head.
‘Get up my boy, you’ve work to do!’
The voice bellowed as he lay on his bed.

‘Where am I?’ Said the boy, in a shaken whisper,
As he tried to get himself up.
A sailor approached, and grabbed his arm,
In turn, then dropping his cup.

‘Ow! My arm!’ The boy would cry,
 As the sailor did drag him along.
‘Captain! He’s here’ the sailor did shout,
As other men started a song.

They bellowed sea shanties, as the ship caught wind, 
through a perilous gloomy storm.
“The wind it would cry, with salt in my eye, 
As we sailed on till the morn”

‘Get up my lad, you signed for this!’, 
The captain grunted his voice.
‘Signed up for what?’ The boy did squeak,
‘Your term of work, You had a choice!’

All of a sudden, the memories came back,
What happened the night before.
The frail young lad, had gone to a pub,
With rum, he kept asking for more.

Sailors were nearby, and saw the boy,
Who was now just lay in the street.
‘Sign this my boy, and we’ll take you home’,
The boy soon signed, on their meet.

The rest was history, as the boy closed his eyes, 
to find himself on a ship.
He was now a sailor, a working man, 
On his way to an 8 month trip.
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