Brave Men of Old

I’ll speak of me past of stories once told. Of men that rode waves out in the cold. Tales of the strong, the courageous, the bold. Most of them died young, a few were quite old. The things that they done sent chills up my spine. They’d eat mush and swill and drink rum and wine. When they were happy, they had a swagger. When they were drunk, they could hardly stagger. Over and over to battle they’d go, They’d fight dragons and monster, toe to toe. They faced their sure death with almost no fear, They’d charge into battle with a loud cheer. What purpose was served by facing their test? Sailing the seas as a pirate was best.