The Porch Pirate Song
(tune: Rosin the Bow/Acres of Clams)

I don't fly the old Jolly Roger
I don’t sail the blue bounding sea
These suburban streets are my ocean
I live off of porch piracy

CHOR: (last two lines)
       I live off of porch piracy, my friends
       I live off of porch piracy
       These suburban streets are my ocean
       I live off of porch piracy

I look for a house that is empty
And snatch up whatever they’ve got
I sell it for cents on the dollar
For such is the porch pirate's lot

CHOR

I once had a job in a bookstore
I was solvent and young and carefree
But Amazon ruined their business
And they had to let go of me

CHOR

I worked an Amazon warehouse
A nightmare in every way
They make you a slave to their robots
And offer you pittance for pay

CHOR

Picking and packing like madmen
You can’t stop to pee or to eat
And don’t try to talk about unions
They’ll throw you right out on the street

CHOR

I’m not asking you for your pity
Of course I know stealing is wrong
But save some of your scorn for Jeff Bezos
And join in my porch pirate song

CHOR


Creative Commons BY-SA License: OK to sing, copy, share, and modify with attribution
Russell Aminzade