Inkpotamus

I met a self-important man,
Who stridently contended,
That directly from Sir Francis Drake,
He was most certainly descended.

Can we climb the big hill, Dad?
With trails to follow far.
Can we get lost in the wood?
And wonder where we are.

English sailors went to sea,
In the 18th Century,
Ate bad food and got scurvy,
And often wound up dead, mate.