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( a ” Piece of Eight”  poem )

A glass to spy I freer shores,
a blade to fight, might even win,
a crew made busy in the chores,
the roughest maiden, pleasurin’.
Low branded men bade swords to cross,
a hempen rope unbraid me neck
for men I’ve killed on blood-fade deck,
“In life, in death, I count no loss!”

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