Material To Reupholster A Boat

Stories of El Retiro (II-The Pirate Song)

frankly. He wanted to publish this photo as part of the series "Stories of The Retreat" for several reasons. The first, which is one of the photos I took this hot summer afternoon and, as I took, I thought "this, for the blog.
The second, the picture conveyed to me a lot, in my opinion is one of those scenes that make you "feel".
The third, which is a common sight on any day Summer Retreat, and should have a story.

The problem is I have not managed to write anything but I'm ashamed of myself. I admit. I tried to give you round and round, and I have not managed to write three decent lines make me think that "if you read another, I am outraged."

Then, I remembered that in my opinion was the best caption of the modern history of journalism: The photo on the front page of the newspaper El Mundo, Rociito wedding. In the photo, the happily married parents of the bride and their partners. The caption, simple, sincere and descriptive: "the hairdresser, the fighter, the matador, the folklore, the Guardia Civil and pregnant girlfriend." The best description of the deep Spain, with capital letters.

I decided to upload a photo without a story, only with a caption, descriptive enough and was deciding between "The Richal, the Yoni, the Tito and Vane" and "One paddle, three facing" when I remembered of what went through my mind when I saw the scene, I raised my camera and took the photo . I swear it's true, thanks to Espronceda today released the best text of the short history of this humble blog. Pirate Song


Ten guns on each side,
booming, full sail,
not cut the sea, but fly a sailing brig
.
called pirate bark,
for his bravery, Feared, On every sea

known to one another boundary.

The moon shimmers on the sea, on canvas
groans the wind and rising

gentle movement of silver and blue waves;
and see the pirate captain,
singing gaily on the poop,
Asia on one side Sees Europe,
and there to his forehead Stambul:

"Sail on, sail mine
without fear, that no enemy ship

or storm, or boom your way to twist
enough, or hold
your value. Twenty

dams have made to spite

English, and have yielded

their banners
hundred nations
at my feet.

That's my boat my treasure, my god
is freedom,
my law, and wind power,
my only home is the sea. There

move
blind kings fierce wars
by a foot of land,
I have here by my
it covers the wild seas,
anyone who imposed laws. And there
beach
be anyone, no flag

splendor,

not feel my right to breastfeed

and my value.

What is my vessel My treasure is my god
freedom
my law, and wind power,
my only home is the sea.
A voice of 'boat comes! "
is to see how it turns
and prevents
at full speed to escape;
I'm king of the sea,
and my anger is fear. The dams



I divide it equally caught
;

just want the beauty and richness

unrivaled.

That's my boat my treasure, my god
is freedom,
my law, and wind power,
my only home is the sea.

am condemned to die!
I laugh;
not leave me luck,
and I condemn it, hang
any antenna,
perhaps his own ship.
And if I fall,
what is life?

For lost I gave it, when the yoke

slave,
as a brave,
shook.

That's my boat my treasure, my god
is freedom,
my law, and wind power,
my only home is the sea.


My music is the Northwind

the noise and tremor rocked the cables, the black sea

bellows and the roar of my guns. And the thunder

to are violent, and wind

to rebramar, I fall asleep

calm,

lulled by the sea.

That's my boat my treasure, my god
is freedom,
my law, and wind power,
my country is the sea. "