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


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