All by me scurvy seafarin’ self
Me pouch be empty; nicked o' pelf
th' curvy wench tha' warmed me berth
lef' nary one ol' farrrthing's worth
On cap'n's orders bin swabbin' decks
seekin' sawder, spit-lickin' specks
afore ebb-tide 'til high neap-tide
but nary me own scurvy hide
In me head me digs and delves
me gums a-flappin' ter theirselves
in skew tongue of 'em sea-borne folk
lament me cravin' fer a toke
Nowt else ter savour; embrace th' drum
seek solace in th' wretched rum
toxin me liver 'n toss overboard
th' gloom yer absence in me wrought
Categories:
sawder, sadme, me,
Form: Rhyme