There is work to do, hoist your sails to the wind,
       HMS Invincible you know you cannot win.
      Perhaps Lacy Annie will have colors for you,
      give up before Edith Bonnie, Calico Ed wipes
                               off that grin.

         This island paradise is ours for the taking,
              rattle yer swords and have yer fun.
      Already laid claim, have our flags flying high,
            on stumps sitting, swigging on rum.

           No Vineyard, Bordello, British Colony,
                       Spa, Zoo or Bingo Hall.
       Today was the inaugural Indy League Race,
             paper clip track built for one and all.

          We snuck aboard and tempted yer crews,
             while all you Ed's slept off yer brine.
             To all a good time, women and song,
       even snookered the crew of The Honey Wine.

           Sir Salt Walt on board the Marmalade,
            was cooking above and cooking below.
                Steamy hot day on ole Belle Isle,
    all those lacy panties came in handy you know.

       A fleet of wayward ships you have a calling,
           Edvardo the Elder you frighten us not.
   Those ships in a storm, sails beaten and battered.
          they will whimper in, the whole sad lot.

    Tired, hungry, yearning for wenches and rum,
         ye days be numbered, time running out.
             Might reconsider a bordello or two,
           but ye must beware ye carry no clout.

Written by:
Karen Palumbo
Photograph by:
Robert Palumbo
9/2/2007
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