Ye Pyrate's Life be Merrye and Gaye
I wuz born a fierce Pyrate
So me mammy said ta me
Before I could even walk an inch
I was the terror of the sea
I nivver went ta school
Nor any sort o church
I slapped a wench about a bit
then left her in thee lurch (when I was 8 )
By thee toim I was in Long Trousers
Thee king's men were after me
I said goodbye ta mammy
An set sail upon thee sea (after passing me Pirate articles and studying navigation for 4 years)
I swashed me buckle accross the briny
From Nantucket to Mandalay
I nivver shed a tear at all
for a Pirate's life is gaye
Then one day I stood upon thee deck
The First Mate he spoke ta me
He said he loiked thee cut o me jib
An I filled his heart wiv glee
Now it it seemed ta me a strange thing
That a man who loiked a drink
Could stand upon the poop deck
In a dress four shades o pink
I always thought he was a Spanyard
But it seems he comes from Perth
And when he arsked me for a kiss
It filled thee crew with mirth
I had ta let him down kindlee
For I aint that sort o man
But we soon arrived at Bancock
A place of which he was a fan
Altogether now:
Oh Ye Pyrate's Life be Merrye and Gaye
Merrye and Gaye
Merrye and Gaye
Ye Pyrate's Life be Merrye and Gaye
But the First Mate's even Gayer
fixed yer 8 to not be so smiley - Aggie
<sung to the tune of the SPAM song>
Grog! Grog! Grog! Grog! Lovely Grog! Lovely Grog!
Grog! Grog! Grog!
Lovely grog! Wonderful grog!
Lovely grog! Wonderful grog!
Grog! Grog! Grog! Grog! Lovely grog! Wonderful grog!
Grog! Grog! Grog! Grog!
Lovely grog! Wonderful grog!
Grog gro-o-o-o-o-og grog gro-o-o-o-o-og grog.
Lovely grog! Lovely grog! Lovely grog! Lovely grog!
Grog grog grog grog!
Grog!
There wer a yung Pirate from Truro
Who 'ad a penchant fer cocoa
'e drank and 'e drank
til' 'is eyes went quite blank
an' 'e fell right inter the hedgerow
Foine work Bartie!
YArrrr..
And now a poem in Dugong-ese.
Snort, ugh, ugh...
Snort, snort, nantucket.
Whelky Wilkins
Timmy Wilkins was a lonely young lad
He had no friends at school
So his solace was to wander a tad
Down to a big rock pool
He'd stare into the deep blue pond
And imagine many things
He dreamt he was a ruler of whelks
And then became their king
For Timmy's ascendancy to the throne
was with whelky staff and crown
And some red hot whelky liquour
Brewed in Old Whelk Town
His subjects would pay him homage
And dip their pointed shells
And Timmy gave the Whelky Royal wave
And emit some bad whelk smells
Timmy's Mother found him by the pond
And retirieved him right away
But the Whelks would not let Tim abscond
And chased him down the bay
'Come back your highness, we miss you'
Said his subjects with a sigh
Then his mother thus relented
And Tim went gliding by
'Farewell Mum drop in some time'
Said Timmy to his mum
Tim's back on his throne sublime
Sitting nicely on his bum
So next time you see HRH Tim
Bow down to the whelky king
Cause next time you just might see him
Havin' a whelky wedding
So if your a foxy whelk out there
Tim's your man for richer or for poor
Cause we all know that the Royals
Can stuff up marriage for sure
Quote from: Griffin NoName on October 02, 2009, 03:34:23 AM
There wer a yung Pirate from Truro
Who 'ad a penchant fer cocoa
'e drank and 'e drank
til' 'is eyes went quite blank
an' 'e fell right inter the hedgerow
That's thee worst limerick since Nef Yoo teamed up with Willy McGonagall and wrote 'She was onlee a Train Driver's daughter, but she had a Tender behind.'
Oi fink it be a foine limerik. It 'av h'all the right ingredients, plus chocolate. MMMM loverly chocolate.