The Dinner Bell and a Pirate's Loaded Cannon- Original Poetry- The U.S.S. MinnowPROSE!

The door was ajar, passage unbarred.
Every step creaked and moaned.
Wooden voices straining to speak secrets.
Hidden beneath the floor.

The Master was here, for reasons unclear.
To clean out what remained.
With each rug rolled, another story unfolds.
Closets filled with bones.

To the basement we peek, rust stained sheets.
A ring set into stone.
This thing at its knees, eyes turned to plead.
No place for children.

Beyond staircase, we pry, into attic we spy.
Locked up memories.
Notebook and page, bound within cage.
Of cartons moldy rot.

A hook and a noose? who cooked the goose.
Didn't made it to the larder.
Hung out to dry, now filled with fly.
Never to cooks pot.

At least cupboards full, of cock and bull.
Liquor fit for gasping.
Sweet roll made from your soul.
And tiny mints for after!

Oh, and let us not forget our new buddy.
This fresh face easing into dusty lobby.
Come on in, I welcome all.
Just watch out for that dinner call.

T'was not my fault, see.
Turns out the pirate life just found me.
To take to seas and plunder the boats.
Jus'n excuse to bloody up redcoats.

Got the call when I was young.
Old enuff to pick up my gun.
Shoot that silly old duffer.
Rob him blind and take his puffer.

We steemed all over the bay.
Took on anyone, come what may.
Any loot was great fun.
Long as we took it at loaded gun.

For powder and pirates are great mates.
Load em up and seal their fate.
Just make sure charges right.
Light it up to give a fright.

Touching back upon the present.
Seems the crowns not as pleasant.
As some might think, as some say.
A pirate just might swing today.

I told em true, I told em straight.
Pleaded and begged for my fate.
Fortunes glory, I would not suffer.
Turns out I'd be a cannons stuffer.

One last hug for my best mate.
Before I get to pass that gate.
Bring the torch to the lock.
Bloody pirates.