I am Toquay
Captain Jonah Toquay
With a pen and a cross
I stalk the beast of ages
To wrest from it
What souls I can
I am not a monk
Nor a sailor or a scholar
But some of each
And much of less
I am made of ancient cloth
Cut straight by God fearing hands
I am the white man
The square, the ancient salt
The one they call extinct
I have now become the past
My land a swamp
Ruled by harpies and whiny dwarfs
A poisoned place oozing thrills
That smother the man
Within the budding boy
I have argued long enough
And no longer care to please
I know what I know
And I say what I see
Let those who will, quarrel
Let them writhe
I move on