On Savannah’s East Broad, very near where it bleeds into Bay,
You'll find the Pirates' House right where it was back in the day.
Perched in the place where the Trustees’ Garden once grew
the boarding house and bar hosted many a seafaring crew.
Brigands and ruffians and the occasional scourge of the sea,
knew that this small tavern of infamy was the best place to be.
And every sailor worth his salt would happily pay any sum,
to escape a liquor prohibition and drink a spot of rum.
The Pirates' House was famously known to be a smuggler's den,
with tunnels for smuggling gold and rum and sometimes even men.
With dangerous characters visiting and sailing in from distant coasts,
there's hardly an question whether or not any of them became ghosts.
If you find yourself at the Pirates' House on any given date,
you may hear the ghost of a pirate captain calling for his first mate.
"Bring aft the rum!" You may hear the ghostly captain cry,
these could be the words spoken by pirates just before they die.
So gather around at the old Pirates' House and spin a yarn or two,
because in Savannah the only thing missing from our ghost stories is you.
Poem Written by Christopher Soucy of Odd Lot Improv.