My men watch over it,

Even in death, no shit,

Even in bones they stay fit,

Cutlasses & muskets,

They use to fend off,

Though it is sometimes hard,

For them to dig themselves out of their trough…

Gold doubloons and silver coin,

All waiting there for a man with a strong groin,

Watch out for those hernia’s, I buried it deep,

Use your legs & arms to lift, maybe a rope and Jeep…

On the banks of rivers that end in the barrens,

Places where man is afraid to tread,

Only ghosts do float there instead,

Where the ground does run blood red…

Hundreds of years now do pass,

Of rum I did leave my mates in a cast,

They did die like men, protecting my gold,

Even in death do they like men act as bold…

© ed ~ 9/3/06