Out for an ale,
With friends who said.
A pub crawl is needed,
Before I got wed.
The press-ganged wedding,
Sadly not far away.
Forced into wedlock,
Ahh…the rolling in the hay!
The warm grog it flowed,
By the fifth I was willing.
To go home and sleep,
Until my tongue felt the shilling.
With a jolt I awoke,
In the brig, I felt bruising.
With lumps on my head,
And my jail, it was moving.
A gentle pitch,
A smooth slow yaw.
My heart was then lifted,
As sea replaced shore.
The jail it was opened,
By a man with no neck!
“Get changed into this…
…and get up on deck!”
The sun split my eyes,
For a moment I was blind.
Squinted smile to the stern,
For no land was behind.
So my Navy time started,
In 1797.
As we sailed to Tenerife,
To sun, war and heaven.
The effect I would soon feel,
Man’s gift from Prometheus.
With firey canons blasting,
From our good ship Theseus.
Our bravest of all Captains,
Rear Admiral of the Blue.
Lost an arm for the boys,
Huzzah Horatio...the true!
Alas victory was mute,
At sun-blood Santa Cruz.
A rare time of defeat,
Leftlimping home, egos bruised.
Too long on land,
Craving revenge, it was hard,
With no seas or band of brothers,
But then came the Vanguard!
For months on end we sailed,
A scored thirst there was to quench.
Davy’s locker was soon to see,
The whole fleet of the French.
The Battle of the Nile,
We were fixed on both quarters.
Splitting them in two,
The seas red with the slaughter.
Our Norfolk born Lord,
Gave his eye to glory that day.
To his lads who fought hard,
Death dispatched, without delay.
Ship after ship, under Zeus,
I served and would still if alive,
But Boney got his man,
In Eighteen hundred and five.
We won then sailed, teared silence,
He joined us, tankards filled with Ales,
One last time on the main deck,
Then his wind, it filled our sails.
(Copyright) Pedro BatPoet 2019
Pedro Batpoet 