Anne Bonny, Mary Read and Calico Jack

Giles C. Watson has added a photo to the pool:

I was going through the "archives", and found this song lyric. The picture shows a ship's figurehead, from Tresco Abbey Gardens, Isles of Scilly.

Anne Bonny, Mary Read and Calico Jack

Anne Bonny is my name, though you would never guess it,
My body is no giveaway, thanks to the way I dress it;
I bind my breasts with canvas from a sloops old weathered sail.
So hearken to me lubber, and Ill tell you my sad tale.

Deserted by my husband, to Charleston did I go,
And met a grimy sailor, clad in calico.
We set sail for the Caribbean, for money, not for love,
On churning seas, the Jolly Roger fluttering above.

All the men but Calico assumed I was a boy,
And I put on a husky voice for shoutin, Land ahoy!
Though I was slim about my waist, no bristles on my chin,
I soon lost teeth from scurvy, so I bore a sailors grin.

And my trousers are of calico, Ive buckled boots of leather,
I wear a navy jacket, it will do for any weather,
A turban hides my womans locks, ragged round my head,
And my baldrick bears a cutlass, stained a rusty red.

And when we climbed to board a ship, and hit the pitching deck,
Twas I who swiped my cutlass at the Admirals bare neck,
And with the plunder piled high, gleaming neath the moon
Twas I who steered for Cuba as they counted their doubloons.

And on a stricken merchant-ship, the rigging strewn asunder,
My dagger slit the sailors throats, the currents dragged them under,
A swaggering young sailor-lad put up a stronger fight,
I dragged him struggling to our sloop; I wanted him that night.

Unbuckling ! his bald rick, my fingers brushed his breast,
He caught me by the wrist, and he hurriedly confessed,
Oh, if youd have your way with me, good sir, I am agreed,
Though I may not take your fancy, for my name is Mary Read.

And my trousers are of calico, Ive buckled boots of leather,
I wear a navy jacket, it will do for any weather,
A turban hides my womans locks, ragged round my head,
And my baldrick bears a cutlass, stained a rusty red.

And so we sailed for Calico, stashed treasure in a cave,
His swabbers were a cutthroat lot, but we were twice as brave,
They cowered under cannon fire, for all of them were craven,
So we shot them with our pistols, and I doubt they went to heaven.

When Calico was caught, he was hung from halyards high,
You fought but little like a girl, so like a dog youll die,
This I cried, and Mary grinned, for we too might have died,
But we had pirate bastard babes half grown in our insides.

And our trousers are of calico, weve buckled boots of leather,
We wear our navy jackets, they will do for any weather,
Weve womens wombs and womens guile, and each a womans head,
And most, were blest with womens luck, for all the men are dead.

Song lyric by Giles Watson.