I've a patch on one eye
A hook for a hand
A leg that is wooden
And I was nearly unmanned.

My back is all spotted
From my pet parrot's crap
And the ink has all run
On my old treasure map.

My crew are rebellious
My quarters are dank
And soon I'll be treading
The ship's wooden plank.

I've raped and I've pillaged
The seas have I travelled
Now my beard is matted
And my coat is unravelled.

I've spent all my money
My energy is low
And my crew mutters daily
That it's time I should go.

One morning I'll wake
With a knife at my throat
And my life won't be worth
Any more than a groat.

The sea shall close o'er me
I'll sink like a wreck
But it's better than the touch
Of the noose 'round my neck.

As my thoughts slow and dim
And my life flashes by
I'll know once I was feared
And I'll smile as I die.


*A groat is an ancient coin, equivalent to four old pennies, or a
one-third of a shilling.


Penned by my hand on the 14th of Daedalan, in the year 387 AF.