hope there is still a spit of a palm covered island
for this ship to land upon;
I have sailed these seas and felt the winds
braved all the storms, the lack of breeze;

fought the company back and come to here
between the  sea and shores;
I wanted to mutiny myself and throw
overboard my sexton and mates;

draw from my scabbard my long sword
or my hip my pistol;
and shoot myself in the head
or the chef who cooks like ****;

but I have sailed this far and come across
the Atlantic the Gulfs;
of Mexico though in the time they
had no such names or maps proclaiming;

the names were not known then
and so I sail still;
behind the masts the ship alone
now I have tired of all my mates.