PoetryConnection.net Discussion

[Frank E Gibbard]

Wind tossed was the bad ship “Wicked Witch”
Midst swelling seas as she rolled and pitched
Straining for each inch of sail, the pirate crew,
While high on the masthead a black flag flew.

White skull, crossed bones, a crooked trade
One Cap’n Murphy led her on this escapade.
Packed to the gunnels with doubloons of gold
This galleon was struggling so heavy its hold.

The Witch’s figurehead glowered at the prow,
A crone on a broom the crew called: “that cow”
In descant with the gale rose the cries of a girl,
Some poor wretch neath deck had let go a hurl.

A good crop of wenches were part of their haul
Who never could stomach a ship’s rise and fall.
The Captain wiped ocean from his craggy lips
Slugged deep from a flask in quick greedy sips.

Murphy’s mate Ned O’Riley was conjoined at his hip,
He watched close his master in vain hope of one slip.
Sailing near to despair as his chief held all that rum
With nary a missed order which made him quite glum.

“Pull in the mainsail no good swabs” came the shout,
And as it were magic the "Wicked Witch" turned about.
The mate choked on “humble” and inevitably scowled
If he dared cross Murphy he’d soon be disembowelled.

How this one-eyed pig managed Ned could never ken,
Did Satan spawn this sea devil to curse us mortal men?
Murphy would brandish his cutlass in the one good fist,
A fearsome hook on the other you’d be brave to resist;
O’Riley had seen that skewer rip some rebellious salts,
He was feared to add a mutiny to his manifest of faults.

A wild hurricane of ambition careened around Ned’s head
Fomenting schemes to kill Murphy yet not to end up dead.
Just a few bold cronies he mused and power could be mine
But this crew had no bastard with adequate spunk or spine.

Like himself once with musket and this great monster asleep
Until he saw the pirate as Poseidon emerging from the deep.
There was no villain with courage on the vessel worth a damn
A mangy flock of lily livered lambs led by the one dominant ram;
It’s a fatal flaw of the buccaneer tough and bullish in large packs
That’s soon exposed when all alone by the courage that he lacks.

First: defeat the present storm may'swell heed Captain’s orders
To give that swine his due he quelled the elements and boarders.
Mastery of chart and men, and his black cold heart was Murphy,
Despite all Ned must have his tilt at this: "king of the unworthy."

“Now me bucco’s," Murphy roared, “I’ll see yee back to Jamakee,”
By my good eye by hook or crook .. aha! Or let the devil take me.”
At a command on yardarms high like monkeys clung the sailors,
Sheets of canvas bales unrolled with all the élan of fancy tailors.

“Haul away me hearties,” Murphy yelled, in the light of a gentle sky
A storm repelled on Wicked Witch, the company’s hopes were high.
Under fair wind her adventure stayed, the ship was docked in harbour,
His crew dispersed, as Murphy cursed and shambled off to the barber.
He threw himself in the surgeon’s chair, Mr Pugh was soon apprised
“This be the wound I got from a wild bitch that’s a-needing cauterised.”
Blast your beautiful eyes and face, sez I, but she paid for it: the vixen,
He pulled up the sleeve of the bitten arm. “I gave the girl a right fixing.
She cut up a sight, her charms now a fright, ahar! The ugliest cow in Jamaica.
Patch me up Pugh, when I heave to, if the witch will not woo I shall make her.”
Pugh said: “I will give you a stitch, you will need no more pitch, I can sew it.
Best take a big swig, as my needle will dig, if I go in too deep you will know it.”
“Aargh came his cry and salt tears from the eye the barber kept happily stitching
Damn you Pugh! he swore, tell all ashore, that Murphy’s sword arm is itching.”
So Murphy returned, as his passions burned, to town with a hunger to quench,
A fresh steak to devour, within the hour, best brandy, cigars then some wench.

In Kingston Bay, where the Wicked Witch lay, the nearby Idle Inn was right handy,
For pirates to play who’ve been long away and to feast on fine women and brandy.
Such a suitable place for them ugly of face to find him some wench who’s a-willing,
Deck hands who stink, can buy love for a drink, good whores will cost’em a shilling
Murphy arrived, his dark spirits revived as he grappled the first wine bottle free;
Avidly he swallowed but a retch followed: “Fetch me brandy or I’ll throttlee,” cries he.
"Only best will do me, bring me good beef and beauty, ‘tis my duty to spend booty I say.
Arrrh I see my first mate O’Riley, looking at me so slyly, in that eternally loyal way.
My left-hand man, aye that’s the hook me-matey, you’d not dare rat on your master, eh?
Relax man I am only joking, no need for choking, fear not. Here is no plank for you to walk;
We birds of prey, and of feather, hunt better together, I an eagle you my friend a hawk."
How voraciously the pirate devastated his plate of steak and piratical thirst did slake,
And what sonerous slurps and bibulous burps in the course of his repast he makes.
Murphy near in his cups from brandy, tipsy now but feeling randy, and fired with drink,
Looking for a prize, observed this creature with jade green eyes, giving him such a wink.
New fruit, he thought, ripe for plunder, this lascivious wench in red with lips asunder,
Feeling the sting of his stitches from a previous encounter he knew that he must mount her.

So Pugh burst through Bella’s bedroom doors intent on violent revenge and whatever lay before,
Expecting stiff resistance, perhaps an end to his own or Murphy’s existence, for this was war.
He saw Murphy naked prostrate on the bed his lover dishabille on a chaise longue calmly drinking.
“You witch you whore! What have you done?” He shouted , Bella replied: “He is drunk and stinking.
I took advantage of him you fool I have his purse full as transacted he will have no remembrance
Of what was not enacted and all for nothing to cause you concern. ‘Twas all unearned my lover
You know there is only one man for me not one other. And look at your rival, not a big man is he?
Without his weapons, and look below his hook Ivor,” she laughed, “That is no weapon that wee
Thing, not much of a mast to boast of , Captain Murphy’s little finger shall I christen it? To me
He is nothing, think me a woman of easy virtue would he? He knew nothing of me, do you see?
Murphy did not know about you and I so away with thee, be gone my dear and free lest he awake.
Let me handle it. We can leave this pirate town ... I have a dowry.” Giving the coin bag a little shake.

[Viking Poet (U.K.)]

Hi Frank.
Its no wonder you have been absent for a while having read this work.
A good storyline from start to finish keeping the reader hooked. You have built in some great visual lines, not for the grandson though, some very visual?
What sparked off the idea for this?
I enjoyed the story and the poetry and ask, when is the next installment?
Another F.E.G. works worth a read.
Thank you Frank for sharing this one. Next!
Cheers!

My best regards

Paul

Viking Poet (U.K.)

[Frank E Gibbard]

Thanks Paul for even reading. Thanks for the positives mate. I don't know about any more tho' I'm pirated out. Just fancied a story write and it grew. Frank