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

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