Whiskey Pirate Bill
Here is a yarn about One-eyed Whiskey Pirate Bill, the most
feared pirate ever to sail the open seas. He had a peg for finger, a patch over
his eye, and a small donkey named Bob. His sword was as sharp as his tongue. Quick
was his wit and tendency to run a man through as long as his back was turned or
just plain caught of guard. He never met a man he wouldn’t fight unfairly or a
woman he wouldn’t bed as long as the lights were off.
One-eyed Whiskey Pirate Bill was known for his drinking and
starting fights with his comrade and side-kick Midget Pete. Midget Pete lived
up to his name, as he never saw the upper side of four feet except the time
when Bob fell over a pile of empty rum bottles.
Bob was as loyal as a donkey could be given his
circumstances. His ears were as long as
his legs, and his tail was missing due to an unfortunate encounter with a
sleeping pit-bull that he accidentally stepped on after a rowdy night of
swilling booze.
The trio was quite a sight to behold,
a tale of an infamous night that needs to be told.
I will spin the yarn
if you're not too old,
if you grant me the
chance, I will be so bold.
Open your ears and you’re sure to see,
just how Whiskey Pirate Bill’s peg for a finger came to be.
It was a quite night upon the high sea,
just One-eyed Whiskey Bill, Midget Pete, and the donkey made
three.
The sail was full, and so was the jug of rum,
good ole’ One-eyed Whiskey Pirate Bill decided to share with
his chums.
He uncorked the bottle with what was left of his teeth,
then he spit it over board into the water beneath.
After several tugs from the jug, and several times around,
the three were starting to stumble and falling to the
ground.
The smell of the rum filled the night air,
Bill knew it was dangerous, but he didn’t care.
All of a sudden, the ship came to a stop with a mighty
thump,
ole’ One-eyed Whiskey Pirate Bill fell right on his rump.
“The Kracken,” Bill yelled at the top of his lungs,
a few choice swears, is what he already begun.
He rolled to belly and then up on his feet,
“He’s after my rum,” that son of a beat.
Midget Pete drew his dagger and ran to the rail,
he looked over-board, then up just in time to see the wind
leave the sail.
Bob shook his ears and eyed the front of the boat,
then lowered his head ready to charge like a goat.
The boat began rock from side to side as it raised out of
the water,
Ole’ One–eyed Whiskey Pirate Bill took another drink, cause
he knew what was the matter.
Giant tentacles climbed from the sea, as Midget Pete
staggered back,
the dark head came next from out of the black.
The monster was now twenty feet high,
eight legs swinging wildly, but nary a thigh.
Bob became crazy, and started running around the deck,
as Midget Pete thought of stabbing the poor creature right
in the neck.
The monster snarled and ground his big yellow teeth,
as Ole’ One-eyed Whiskey Pirate Bill drew his sword from its
sheath.
“You came for my rum,” Ole’ Bill shouted as he shook the
bottle at the dirty rotten Kraken,
“but I promise you this, that ‘ll never happen.”
The monster drew near and extended one leg,
it found its target and wrapped tight around the keg.
Bill had his finger in the hole of the bottle and held on
tight,
both the monster and Bill pulled with all their might.
The two pulled and they tugged,
Bill slashed with his sword, as the Kraken only shrugged.
Bill cursed at the monster as he tried to steal his drink,
the rum isn’t worth it, at least a sober man would think.
The battle was fierce, and the night grew long,
it was truly a fight that night that was worthy of song.
Midget Pete was afraid that this tug would last all night,
as the black faded away he knew he was right.
He rose from his seat, and let out a yawn,
he watched the horizon as the sun peeped up signaling the
dawn.
Midget Pete was getting tired and wanted his bed,
“But how can I end this?” he thought in his head.
Deep down Midget Pete was a Pirate with a heart made of
black,
once he got an idea, he never turned back.
He walked up to Ole’ One-Eyed Whiskey Pirate Bill and drew
his blade,
before he knew what had hit’em, Ole’ Bill looked down to
where his finger was laid.
The Kraken had won, this was no doubt,
as Bill danced around and started to shout.
The Kraken turned up the keg and soon drank it all down,
oh how he loved rum, especially when it was brown.
Ole’ One-eyed Whiskey Pirate Bill was not happy with defeat,
that was when he turned in anger and faced Midget Pete.
Midget Pete quickly shuffled around and began fidget,
as soon as he realized, he had lopped off a digit.
With nary a word, Bill swung his saber,
striking the leg of his diminutive neighbor.
So this is the story, and as promised it’s a dinger,
of how one pirate got a peg for a leg and the other got a
peg for a finger.
