A pirate stumped into the bar and ordered island rum,

the barman scowled and walked away, he hated pirate scum,

a metal hook slammed on the bar, and made the bottles clink,

"By Jolly Roger's curses foul - I came in here to DRINK!

"Away was I for twenty years, I've seen the seven seas,

I've eaten weeviled biscuits and befriended rats and fleas,

I reckon there's a hundred men I've sent to Kingdom Come,

but pirate days be over, lad, now fetch me up a rum."

The barman poured a drink and mouthed a sorry for the wait,

the pirate grabbed the bottle as he flashed a piece of eight,

"Now don't be thinking poor old Pete can't pay for this here stuff -

You keep the bottles coming matey, till I've had enough!"

The barman thought a moment then perused him up and down,

"Well you're the oldest pirate that has ever come to town,

I bet you've many stories of a life misunderstood,

I pray thee tell the saga of your whittled leg of wood."

 "Twas on the Sea of Sorrows and a calm had struck our ship,

the filthy sun was sweltering, I deigned to take a dip,

the crew swore that they shouted, but I never heard their bark,

my leg became the breakfast of one very hungry shark."

"My God!" exclaimed the barman, "What a grisly scene you paint,

and now you have that wooden leg and walk without complaint,

and still you stayed a pirate, didn't settle down on land?

I beg you tell the story, then, of how you lost your hand."

"Begaarrrgh," said Pete, "The British caught us down around the Horn,

we fired a lucky broadside and their sails were badly torn,

we could have sped away and disappeared into the night,

but hatred of these naval men had stirred our love for fight!

"We boarded her and steel on steel sent every ear to ring,

but men who fight for money will beat men who work for King,

my trusty peg was gripped by one who served the British crown,

I landed on my back - and saw a cutlass swooping down.

"The deadly blade of steel was aimed exactly at my head,

I flung my arm in instinct and the sword hit that instead,

it carved right through the flesh and bone, then sliced into my neck,

the last thing I remember is my hand - there on the deck.

"We sent that British Man o War to Davy Jones and hell,

I never saw the end of her, or heard the British yell,

they walked the plank while I was tended by our trusty cook,

I woke a fortnight later - with this scurvy blasted hook!"

"Good grief!" intoned his listener, "What a really stirring tale,

and still you lived a life of ships, of piracy and sail,

'tis twice you stared at death, but 'twas not time for you to die,

so tell me now the story of just how you lost your eye."

"Ahaarggh," laughed Pete, "Tis clear today, though all these years have past,

a storm had broke some rigging and the mate had climbed the mast,

I leant far back to see up top, and watched a seagull fly,

the mate had scared it from a spar - it pooped right in my eye!"

"Your leg was lost as sharkbait, it's a thing a man would grieve,

an English cutlass takes your hand - that too I can believe,

a pirate's life is dangerous, by God - I'll grant you that,

but now you say you lost your eye because a seagull shat?"

"Ahaargh," cried Pete, and downed a rum, "a pirate's life I've had,

I've laughed through all the good times and I've laughed at all the bad,

my every word is true, my lad, I'll swear it on the book,

A bird shat in my eye - and 'twas my first day with the hook!!!"

 more of my FUNNY POEMS here