Dreaming At Nightmare Ridge

Oh, they started so early.

Demanding and standing

Ground, with no ground

To stand on.

Flailing about with all of that clout

Chopping off most hands at random.

Lord, we could barely stand them!

But, there were too many

And if he had a penny

For every son a bitch he knew.

His boat, she’d be sinking

And sailors be thinking.

He skuttled that good ship for loot.