Gramusa's diary
Spread out on the sea
Sworn to a pirate church
His shoulder, a parrot perch
Joe, his parrot of old
Had an eye for gold
No dreamin' on a telephone wires
Fed 'im conquered empires
Seven years ago
Broken bones
One dawn in a sleepy bed
Came Pirate Bill McCrane
His treasure coloured golder
No parrot on his shoulder
Seven years ago
Gramusa last joked
No more company to terrorise the sea
Brokenhearted, he climbed to dive
No longer felt alive
That the legion water tower
Was to be his grave flower
But below the mud
Absorbed the thud
Mama's medicine sack
Fixed his broken back
Now at sea he makes his tips
On snorkeling to the strips
No more 'musa the pirate grouch
Seven years without a slouch