The Black Pearl Poem - Booty Returned
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The term "Ballad" might not be the correct one, but seeing as the Black Peral is a ship with swashbuckling tales of its own to tell it is felt that this SHOULD be a ballad. It is a light hearted dedication to all the people of the communities in England who maintain her and the hundreds of children who visit her. READ ON ME HEARTIES!! ... :)
The BLACK PEARL is a ramshackle "ship" erected by the community of New Brighton and its surroundings, on the South bank of the River Mersey; the same river which olds the mighty port of Liverpool in England. It is made from flotsam washed up on the river banks - and other items donated by the local communities that this ship has brought together and whose fame is spreading 'far and wide'.
Although I am from the North of the river - and actually now live in a different country - I have been to visit this ship on a number of occasions. It is so easy for one to get wrapped up in the enthusiasm which abounds within the community and become embroiled in her 'adventures' as they unravel.
This poem is about another poem, written by a young boy from that community, which had painstakingly transferred to a piece of wood that made up part of the 2nd "Black Pearl". That Black Pearl was sadly washed away in Deecember 2013. The community rallied together and soon the 3rd Black Pearl was rebuilt and successfully weathered a hurricane that recently blew through there. The poem, however was "lost" since 2013. It was found two days ago in a dock in Liverpool on the North shore. It has since been returned to its rightful place on the Black Pearl in New Brighton..
Like many merchant vessels
That sailed from our Mersey shore
This sturdy piece of timber
Can hold its own in tales of yore
A dried up piece of flotsam
Washed up on Wirral banks
Was dutifully cleaned and dressed
And a verse written on its shank
Amid the other bits of timber
That made up the Black Pearl
This poem had taken its place
With the many flags unfurled
Everything in Pearl had stories
Of pirates tales galore
Made up, true or invented
No one really knows for sure
But each made up this pirate ship
That was not built in any dock
Neither wind nor tide could shake her
Sturdy on her rock
And then one day a storm rolled in
December Twenty thirteen
Unleashed torrential fury
That until then none had seen
Tempest battered Black Pearls flanks
Steadfast in the wind she’d sway
Ripped viciously at her robust planks
Sadly some things were washed away
One of these was this poem
That a little boy had wrote
Whose parents could not see the ship
Now at sea awash did float
Although lost in the Mersey’s waters
Both brown as murky tea
This poem on wood was never lost
Nor did she sail back to sea
Instead with the tides it ebbed and flowed
Liverpool’s docks had called it there
From where it may have started
No one knew or even cared
And then one day some months ahead
Lewis Baigent found sure fame
For bobbing in dock waters
He found the very same
Words still clear upon the wood
Not a letter out of place
The chain and rope still part of it
And the skull and crossbones face
The word got round to Black Pearl’s crew
The booty was held and fast
They sent a party to redeem her
To be returned again at last
To take its place once again
Upon famed Black Pearl’s hull
And stories, myths and legends
Will abound ‘til we are full
Of yarns and tales and stories rich
One greater than the other
Dredged from imaginations
And narrated without any bother
So gather round my children
Mums and dads and more
Dogs and cats and grown ups
And you loiterers on the shore
For what I have to tell you
Is not all just hearsay
This poem has ventured near and far
But has been returned this day
Copyright © Thomas Mansfield | Year Posted 2014
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