There are stories told and told of thievery and things of old.

Tales of the seas in perilous times, retold by mates in songs and rhymes.

Once men set out to find their treasure and maybe just a bit of pleasure,

They’d go to sea to earn their keep. There in the ships above the deep.

One such man, the youngest of a crew, learned to swear and spit and chew.

And he could climb the main sail mast better than most for he was fast.

Well, one day when he was looking out, he spied a ship and gave a shout.

A pirate ship came into sight with sails the color of the night.

The pirates on that dark sailed ship grasped them in their bloody grip.

They took whatever spoils they could and set a fire to the wood.

The young sailor that day fought back hard, but the ship was broken, burned and charred.

And found he adrift with only sky and left that day with just one eye.

How long he drifted, he could not tell. It seemed like days and days of hell.

By night the chill of the ocean’s breath brought him closer to his death.

By day, delirious from heat and brine, he prayed to God for just one sign

And then it was that he was saved, when he saw a ship and weakly waved.

Plucked from the sea and given bread, this young man lost and almost dead,

Was taken into the captain’s care, healed and lifted from despair.

Then for years the crew, they asked around until the culprit’s name be found

The one who’d taken from the lad his sight. Reduced by half his share of light.

One day when the ship had set to port, the Captain gave him that report.

Of that fateful hour he was shortsighted, that moment he felt his life was blighted.

“Aye aye Captain.” the young man said as he winked that one eye in his head.

This was his long awaited day, He snarled and said…”There be hell to pay!”

He took his leave and went to shore headed for the tattoo store.

Past the rum and all the beauties off to do his vengeful duties.

For after all he'ld done twas underhanded, that is where that pirate landed.

Too old to rig the sails afloat, he owned a shop, “The Tattoo Boat”.

Through the door he busted in. The tattoo man was all a grin.

The sailor grabbed him by the scruff, shook him up and down real rough.

“Tis you!” he growled. “You took me eye!” And now you’re gonna have to die!”

But the old pirate had no recognition of the man and his condition.

Now grace is neither a sailor’s fame nor mercy either by any name.

But the young man himself had been afforded, many mercies to him awarded.

And so he unhanded that old man and didn’t shorten his life span.

The better man in mercy he, from the boy upon the sea.

The old pirate had some stories true, and bragged the way old pirates do.

In the end deserving retribution but looking for some absolution,

Some say that night he took his ink, (after quite a bit of drink)

Sat the sailor in his chair and tattooed on his arm, an eyeball there.

Yes, there are stories told and told of treasure chests to brim with gold.

Legends made from ancient tales, stories told of giant whales.

Written down or told in songs, reminding man that he belongs.

A record kept there too some think, on the flesh tattooed in ink.

04/30/2005