Queen of Pirate Island
Going on a cruise to Pirate Island where women rule.
The men have been taken prisoner where they eat gruel.
They are looking for a pirate queen, a strong minded wench.
I speak Spanish, and I eat my toast and fries in French.
Pirate Island is just around the next bend, matey.
I am glad I finally get to go, before I’m eighty.
There are banners all over that shout out women’s names.
I tear them down as soon as we land. Not playing their games.
The women are wearing black patches and wooden pegs.
I scoff at their lack of imagination which are in the dregs.
I jump out of the boat with my knife and machete.
Challenging them all because I am ripe, and I’m ready.
There is screaming and shouting and they begin to run hard.
I start singing my praises, in songs, for I am a ridiculous bard.
The men yell out of their cages that they think I should be queen.
I throw buckets of tar on them to show them I can be truly mean.
My trusty dragon steed Chester begins twirling up the beach on the sand.
My female relatives begin playing jazz, sounding like a mariachi band.
Pretty soon the other women throw their banners into the sea.
The uncontested evil queen of Pirate Island is once again me.
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