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
Share
Print
Save
Follow
The picture - I think what I would be most interested in would be the hook. They say when you unscrew those bloody things, you ofttimes find a cache of blood red rubies, and also a powerful stench.
You painted a good picture here Mr. Matlock. A goodun indeed!
I know that Rufus was givin ya inspiration whilst he was licking yur ear. That pooch should be cloned. I swear! If'n he was, I'd buy him!
Give Rufus an atta-boy from Uncle Dick!
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
Take care,
Sherry
I think?
Ron
Most power poem to go with this!!
I salute you POET!!
Love Tinka