Stand tall ye pirates, ho now! ye crustaceanary scum-- raise high the main & mizzen spirits, & jolly roger, rum! Prepare to walk the plankish thing, ye'll die as sure's yer born-- protect yer ear & nosey rings or get yer cart'lage torn! A wind as fair as fever dreams she blows us off to doom; the sails be splayin' at the seams, me parrot's few remainin' plumes Be rufflin now & oh! I feel a tingle in me hook-- ye scabs! Prepare to walk the keel-- & none o' them dirty looks!
Internet Author Unknown
Copyright ©1995-2016 Ostenta Fine Arts and the author