The Lost Captain

To the Captain of the broken ship,
fix your mast prepare your rigs.
No more years of lying still.
Here comes the tide now raise the sail.

Weigh the anchor, swab the deck,
shine the brass you parrot prick!
Stow your mast and move your men,
the time has come to leave again.

Adventure waits far from land
of Pygmy tribes and golden sand.
Treasured coins you promised all,
women's favor to break their fall.

Then wake you fool to dream again,
stuck in a ditch with pig in pen.
Pull up your pants, brush off your face,
the ocean calls, no time to waste.

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i know where monkeys sleep by james wieland american author and poet in arizona

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