Scurvy Dogs

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THE PIRATES WHO DO NOTHING

I eb and flow
I'm to and fro.
I make stops here and there
But exact positions are unknown.
Northern wind absent
Or perhaps I sit teary eye'd
Staring into irons
Waiting for a change in the wind
To move me.
Mental image dawns:
A bloodied rutter arm
Scares me back
To the crow's nest.
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