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Unformatted text preview: And smells of decaying and rot. On this deck the sailors would sleep And through their clothes urine would seep As bathrooms just could not be found Within this confusing compound Where animals lived with the crew The noise was most deafening too. We crouched down to move round this floor Went down the stairs with a great roar Beneath was the store or the hold Where sailors were punished of old By nailing their hand to a pole Discomfort and pain was the goal. The life of a sailor was tough The seas and their treatment quite rough Their life board the ship was so bleak I couldnt have lasted a week Without the least bit of pleasure Though I wish I had all of their treasure. Rona Dixon February 2006...
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- Fall '11