Dressed in our jammies, snuggled up on the couch on a cold winter night, Dad read us The Golden Book of Poetry. This was one of my favorite selections.
I Were A One Legged Pirateby Mildred Plew Meigs
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If I were a one-legged pirate
Ga-lumping around on a peg,
I'd flourish my pistol and fire it;
Then, sure as my right wooden leg,
I'd buy me a three-decker galleon
With cannon to port and to lee,
And wearing the king's medallion,
I'd head for a tropical sea!
Roaring a rough Ha-ha! Ha-ho!
Roving the routes of old,
Over the billows we would go
Sweeping the seas for gold!
Plying the lane
Of the Spanish Main
For Gold! Gold! Gold!
If I were a one-legged pirate
Ga-lumping around after loot,
I'd flourish my pistol and fire it;
Then, sure as my red leather boot,
I'd buy me a three decker galleon
With cannon to thunder a mile,
And bucking the sea like a stallion,
I'd head for a tropical Isle!
Roaring a rough Ha-ha! Ha-ho!
Chanting a chantey bold,
Over the billows we would blow,
Sweeping the seas for gold!
Plying the lane
Of the Spanish Main
For Gold! Gold! Gold!
But since I was not born a pirate
Ga-lumping around on a stick;
And since my toy gun when I fire it
Gives out but a little toy click;
Pretending my boat is a galleon,
My pond is a tropical sea,
I'll play I'm an old rapscallion,
But really I won't hurt a flea.
Roaring my small Ha-ha! Ha-ho!
Saying I'm someone bold,
Over the duck pond I will go
Roving the routes of old;
Plying the pond
And the stream beyond
For Gold! Gold! Gold!