Читать книгу The Book of Buried Treasure - Ralph D. Paine - Страница 4

THE BOOK OF BURIED TREASURE

Of all the lives I ever say,

A Pirate's be for I.

Hap what hap may he's allus gay

An' drinks an' bungs his eye.

For his work he's never loth:

An' a-pleasurin' he'll go;

Tho' certain sure to be popt off,

Yo, ho, with the rum below!

In Bristowe I left Poll ashore,

Well stored wi' togs an' gold,

An' off I goes to sea for more,

A-piratin' so bold.

An' wounded in the arm I got,

An' then a pretty blow;

Comed home I find Poll's flowed away,

Yo, ho, with the rum below!

An' when my precious leg was lopt,

Just for a bit of fun,

I picks it up, on t'other hopt,

An' rammed it in a gun.

"What's that for?" cries out Salem Dick;

"What for, my jumpin' beau?

"Why, to give the lubbers one more kick!"

Yo, ho, with the rum below!

I 'llows this crazy hull o' mine

At sea has had its share:

Marooned three times an' wounded nine

An' blowed up in the air.

But ere to Execution Bay

The wind these bones do blow,

I'll drink an' fight what's left away,

Yo, ho, with the rum below!

—An Old English Ballad.