the days of old savannah

at the tender age of twelve
my father went to hell
my mother decided we would flee
she'd have no more carolina
left the memory behind her
found savannah in 1873

so we landed on our feet
on a dirty cobblestone street
my mother worked hard down at the mill
but i turned a different leaf
learned as a petty thief
on how to drink hard and rob a till

and so it would be
for a year, or two or three
there's a grain of sand for every tear
shed by my poor mother
i forsaked her and my brother
for fellow urchins at ports and piers

then came a fateful day
sometime in early may
the yellow fever came in on the breeze
that's how my family died
tears stained their yellow hide
as i slept off my drink beneath the trees

that night i found myself
alone drinking to my health
down by the ol' river at an inn
and almost instantly
i was in the company
of tattoos , scars, and evil grins

all i recall of that night
is a blur of pure delight
plenty backslaps and friendly cheer
but unbeknownst to me
my new company
had poured a strange vile into my beer

suddenly i awoke
and began to cough and choke
i tried in vain to hide from the light
i couldn't understand
there's wood where there should be sand
the ground moves from right to left
left to right

i scrambled to my feet to fight
before i regained my sight
i heard men roar with laughter and a whip
i felt a lash across my side
i had been shanghaied
far out to sea on a filthy pirate ship

i plotted mutiny
one man agreed with me
oh i was so young and naiive
he sold me out that day
what a foolish thing to say
to gain mercy of the captain's reprieve

so i was put on the plank
my throat slashed with the shank
my lungs were punctured so i couldn't float
i turned and looked at him
it was now my turn to grin
as i jumped to the hungry sharks below

now captain's in his bed
two pillows beneath his head
his wife is sitting closely by
it kills her to see this man
whimpering with shaky hands
who was so fearless, now so afraid to die

he wrings the sheets and moans
he feels a chill to the very bone
his eyes roll madly in his skull
because he sees me here
and those he slew across the years
there's more than barnacles on the hull

those throats he cut with glee
when he was a slave like me
all stand ready holding knives
and rotting ladies press
against his bed in their finest dress
the count is all 15 former wives

and we all move in with glee
decaying jaws and missing teeth
reach out to him like we know him well
we all scramble over each other
like a child yearning for it's mother
to be the first to drag him down to hell