Do not know where this poem came from. I must have been shivering me timbers off somewhere after being caught in a squall😄. I’ve never been to the Barbary coast in my life, my ancestors, a few being sailors, probably did though. I have got a fascination with the sea and ships so maybe the idea was buried deep down below in Davy Jones’s locker (a definite ancestor if I ever saw one)😄
There’s one ship that flows through my veins and my life,
She’s carved in my skin with a Barbary knife,
Her sails cut a gash through the buttery surf,
Her frame is majestic, colossal her girth.
She rolls and she reels on the waves as they pound,
She creaks and she sighs though her timbers be sound.
Her name is adventure. Her blood is my life
She’s carved through my heart with a Barbary knife.
Lynda M Roberts © 2022