At riptide in a town that was tawdry and dark,
I met an old fish with a guitar made of bark.
I pulled him aside and asked gently,
If he really was a pirate, from the bloody Red Sea.
“I raided the merchants with letters of marque,
I robbed them by day, and killed them by dark.
Once all the stealing and robbing was done,
No living was made by the point of a gun."
This fish wore scales, that shimmered like day,
Without fail he had money, that he wished he could play.
In a sack by his side this fish held his gun,
And a little gold cricket who kept time to his fun.
The cricket got chirping the old fish's rhyme . . .
"This fish keeps on singing,
. . . This fish keeps up time."
“Lie still and be quiet, wait till she stinks,
See the whites of their eyes, . .
. . . Blast away 'till she sinks.”
“Aim at the mainmast, hack the crew into stew,
Let rip with a cannonball – run the officers through.
Not a fighter can survive . . take your good time,"
Kill the last man alive, . . . grab every last dime."
This fish tore the Moon,
. . . from the streets of the town.
He ripped out its belly,
. . . He tore out its arm.
This fish yanked the planets,
. . . out from under the night.
He pulled them so hard,
. . . the Sun didn’t fight.
At riptide in a town that was tawdry and dark,
I met an old fish with a guitar made of bark.
I bought him a drink and asked gently,
About life as a pirate, on the bloody Red Sea.
"I raided the merchants with letters of marque,
I robbed them by day, and killed them by dark.”
I met an old fish with a guitar made of bark.
I pulled him aside and asked gently,
If he really was a pirate, from the bloody Red Sea.
“I raided the merchants with letters of marque,
I robbed them by day, and killed them by dark.
Once all the stealing and robbing was done,
No living was made by the point of a gun."
This fish wore scales, that shimmered like day,
Without fail he had money, that he wished he could play.
In a sack by his side this fish held his gun,
And a little gold cricket who kept time to his fun.
The cricket got chirping the old fish's rhyme . . .
"This fish keeps on singing,
. . . This fish keeps up time."
“Lie still and be quiet, wait till she stinks,
See the whites of their eyes, . .
. . . Blast away 'till she sinks.”
“Aim at the mainmast, hack the crew into stew,
Let rip with a cannonball – run the officers through.
Not a fighter can survive . . take your good time,"
Kill the last man alive, . . . grab every last dime."
This fish tore the Moon,
. . . from the streets of the town.
He ripped out its belly,
. . . He tore out its arm.
This fish yanked the planets,
. . . out from under the night.
He pulled them so hard,
. . . the Sun didn’t fight.
At riptide in a town that was tawdry and dark,
I met an old fish with a guitar made of bark.
I bought him a drink and asked gently,
About life as a pirate, on the bloody Red Sea.
"I raided the merchants with letters of marque,
I robbed them by day, and killed them by dark.”