Alchemisland

Wild like the Irish in Brazil

Armed because I’m a part-time pirate

Pilate wants me caught at all costs

Yung Ned of the Hill, won’t be outfoxed or caught short on these shores

She who bore me and She the many who bore the plenty before them, dead someday

But before then let the hearts of bores ache seeing the many chances you’re taking

Take many ladies, love them but leave before it is late, have them cry quiet lakes

Squander whole estates, o’ersee ruin of once great oak acres

Live in such way that dies before ancient, full of pains and aches

Having had one’s cake then having it still

Twice ten times I submerged the ladle, taking my fill

Let Lords prattle until their worked lungs rasp

Let them waste ink adding name to paper

Deathly proclamations they say, this one is the true one that’ll prove fatal

That’ll be the day, my cape hides my face

No cage from which I cannot escape

Given time and chance; such my nature and inclination, lately

My eyes tiredly observe the manifestation of many troopers

In places once deserted, my beloved fir and furze

Rightly, more men on my trail than my crimes deserve

I am not afraid or ashamed to tuck tail, hide and live, fight another day

Out from the trees naked swinging a claymore, then quickly away

The night raider is by day a farmer, a labourer, a horse trainer, a tailor, a teacher

A sailor, a grave digger or a coffin nailer, a blacksmith, a black pharmacist with a busted hip

Quick in and out, the element of surprise, hip fire dispels the night, hit

Hard then run.