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The Pirate Code by Stewart Stafford
Highwaymen of the high seas,
Outlaws of the oceans deep,
Plundering the crown's gold,
They may hang us as we sleep.
Home is but a distant memory,
Friends are anyone we can find,
Turncoats walk the plank slowly,
Or are keelhauled with jellyfish in brine.
The Robin Hoods of seaweed spray,
We rob the rich to give to ourselves,
Growing fat on finest grog and food,
And make pieces of eight into twelve.
Β© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.
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