Midnights when his little schooner “Pride”
Cut past Nigger Head with all sails drawing,
Wild battles with great storms off Yucatan,
And nights with wine and girls at Porto Bello …
Old Jean Lafitte once paced this beach and cried
From wanderlust that shook his heart, and looked
Up to the sky for winds and clouds, and told
His aves on the rosary of stars,
And then along the last bleak beach of life,
He proudly strode, and out across the sea