Me Scurvy
Crew: Plunder my treasures: |
Season of the Morrighan Season of the Morrighan by Rowan She picks me Out of air, Scythe crying as it flies as raven Cutting skin, spilling blood Onto Her body, nourishing ground So dry and barren. She drags me through Her fields, Nourishing what I have sown, My life for the gifts, The gifts for the soul, The soul that cries out Knowing only through death Can we plant once again said the Dread Pirate Ro at 6:37 PM on August 06, 2004 Aarrgh! 0 scurvy dogs said "Ahoy, matey!"
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Starboard Shiver Me
Timbers
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