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Boys’ Own Harsh Reality

Peg-legged and bred with gallantry,
or just in-bred with dysentery,
I know that deep within this heart
a pirate’s life is not for me,
the timbers too shivered. So art
and all its lies are what
my land-lubbed loins be-crave,
me ‘earties foul and true.
I couldn’t rape and pillage or
give one old nag for glue.

And yet I yearn for hairy-arsed seamen
when I read Louis-Stevenson.
A flaw of sex and sense of truth, perhaps.
Just set me down by Brighton, chaps.
Written by Casted_Runes (Mr Karswell)
Published
Author's Note
Inspired by a forum post by that salty old Welsh sea dog, Strangeways_Rob.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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