Pirate Misery
Bin' snifflin' 'nent th' hour o' 12
'pon high deck by me scurvy self
me soulless hearties, dogs o' scum
on lower decks a-flappin' gums
Me keg be dry; I've downed me grog
me head's a-swirl wit' nowt but fog
me ticker's tight; I'm sans me glow
tho' stoked up fer me tit-eyed beau
Th' horizon's bleak; me warty toad
whose slimy self on me has growed
wit' bladed quill scribed clerihew
'n gabbered' wit' a tongue askew
Be cursed, yer nit off bearded buns
o' rottin' dead whale steeped in sun
this 'ere pirate yer beseech
creep whence yer hail, yer vermin leech
NOTE: ALL 'MISTAKES' ARE DELIBERATELY PLACED TO ACCOMMODATE PIRATE SPEAK.
For Nathan's contest. I found myself "at sea" when jilted, hence I opted for pirate lingo.
|