for in my dreams I am a Scottish pirate, solemn & alone,...I'll await my fate.

(yes, I don't know)

the south coast of france, 1818 -

our legion survived a quite anomalous battle with the english scum, but with bevy losses - "Come oan, get aff! Ye aff yer heid? - screamed the mid-shippmen, Pip Quarterly - the english cannon balls had been molotav cocktailing our lower deck since mid day proper shone bright - "Mind ye Pints & Quarts", sarcastically bellowed Quarterly. "We's hangs 'em by the baw bag", (scrotum) shouted a deck hand. "Away an stoap bumpin yer gums ya bletherin auld skite", I ordered the lads. (you see now, they were simply talking too much) the situation was getting more tense as the hours drew onward. the battle raged on with a precise intensity, one error conceded by the lads would spell certain devastation to the crew, ship, & even the local Scottish legion.

these boys wanted to get stuck in, & get stuck in we did! we gave those english scum-wanks as much 'ell as we could muster up- only to be battered like fishes into the wee small hours of the morn - laldy lucksie was on our side, as the last of many bomboozels racked our dack-shack, the Spanish fleet led by La Corazon, sneaky buggered up upon those english shite-scum-tossers & put the lackey in the backey -

"Viva la Espana", we chanted until dawns early light shone bright as this Scottish dream pirate ship was victorious! Onward we will march!! We will conquer!

often i'll slip away in a dream, & haze away. I'll be taken back to that ghastly horror of a day when so many of me daggies were lost in that rhabble. the stench of death was all around me, piss, bile, boak, & I even remember the fresh smell of buckie from the previous eve's piss up. I'll never forgot those english-shite-knobdobbers