The Captain’s Scarf

Oiled, shiny skin,
Glow of onyx, yet black as tar,
 A paled shark’s fin,
Sailing beneath the orange star

Hollering shanties with his crew,
Yipping and yowling away,
“There’s only one word on deck,
And it’s what Jizzbeerd would say!”

The black captain touched his hat,
And scratched his woolly chest,
If it would come to a war,
He’d do his very best

Adjusted his eyepatch and stretched,
Reaching below and grabbing his mace,
Captain Jizzbeerd prepared to fight,
And screamed at his crew, “make haste!”

Swinging from the ropes, he cried,
“You filthy pricks, I’ll gut ya!”
Every boy he slayed would sigh,
And say “I want my mama!”

As of spoils and the chests of gold,
Jizzbeerd cast it all aside,
With riches, there was nothing to be done,
But with power, he could abide

As he paraded through the city,
The folks cheered him on his way,
He saw the noose hanging forward,
The wind would make it sway

His right and left hand men,
gruffly told him to move,
The captain continued his march,
And he stomped his hippie groove

The stairs led up to the platform,
And the crowd whooped for a while,
All Captain Jizzbeerd could do,
was display his whitened smile

The rough rope was put around his neck,
A scarf of the times that were to come,
His feet twitched upon the softwood deck,
And Jizzbeerd started to musically hum

His first mate lifted his axe,
And prepared to bring it down,
To sever the rope and pull the gears,
Along with his sailors’ crown

Thunk! went the splitted rope,
As the drums were loudly banged,
The black captain lost his hope,
And stilled; for he was hanged.

By Shivang Shelat

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