A bottle came upon the shore,
It didn't land on my door.
In it a piece of paper,
That told of an incredible caper.
I opened it and it was the last will and testament,
Of a man who went by the name of Kent.
Seems Kent was in the Royal Navy,
Of the entire ship he was of envy.
Now hunted down by the government he once worked for,
He henceforth must walk through a different door.
A hunter of Spanish ships and loot,
He was now lost on an island on hand and foot.
Starving, at his wit's end, he hoped to be found,
Found somewhere in the Caribbean ground.
No longer a soldier, now a pirate,
For it has been 300 years, lost at any rate.
