(no subject)
Pungenday the Forty-Fourth of Bureaucracy in the Year CUR
In honor o' the occasion, here be a sea-shanty I wrote some time ago, concerning some friends o' mine:
First Mate McGraw is missing an eye
He won't tell you how, he won't tell you why
I hear that it sits in a jar on a shelf
An' I can't shake the notion he did it hisself
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hee
. . . Drink in the breeze an' the salt o' the sea
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hum
. . . Pieces of eight an' a bottle o' rum!
Murderin' Tom's a first mate as well
He sailed in that night on the Mistress o' Hell
Came to this tavern in search o' McGraw
That hideous grin meant he liked what he saw
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hee
. . . Drink in the breeze an' the salt o' the sea
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hum
. . . Pieces of eight an' a bottle o' rum!
Barnabas Crupp's a terrible sight
His fingers are black, his pupils are white
I'll tell ye the tale how his fingers turned black:
That's all that touched Hell 'fore Ol' Scratch threw him back
. . . CHORUS
First Mate McGraw is missin' a hand
Lost it to cannibals out on the sand
Found out they'd boiled his hand in a stew;
He threw in their chief and he ate the whole brew
Now, Murderin' Tom, he won't be outdone
Keeps track of his kills on the side of his gun
Makes different marks to show who he did
The long ones are men and the short ones are kids
. . . CHORUS
Black-Handed Crupp's as mean as they come
He'll gladly drink blood if there ain't any rum
From the day he was born, he's ne'er lost a fight
And they say he turns into a wolf in the night
. . . CHORUS
Murderin' Tom walks up to the bar
Sits next to McGraw an' greets him with "yarr"
McGraw has known Tom for all o' his life
But he sits an' says nothing and sharpens his knife
Tom says "I know that ye hate what we did
But that don't matter now, I just want what ye hid
I come here to ask what ye done with the case"
McGraw turns to Tom an' he spits in his face
. . . CHORUS
Murderin' Tom leaps up with a yell,
"Yer surrounded by men from the Mistress o' Hell
Now gimme that case or get ready to die -"
Then he fall to the floor with a knife in his eye
. . . CHORUS
McGraw looks around an' says with a smile,
"Ye've all heard the tale o' the Cannibal's Isle
So come at me, maties, there's no time to waste
I'm dyin' to know how the rest o' ye taste!"
. . . CHORUS
None o' the men can look in his eye
An' no one can think of a daring reply
Only one man has the guts to step up
And that's Captain Black-Handed Barnabas Crupp
. . . CHORUS
First Mate McGraw is startin' to sweat
He says to the Captain, "I'll make you a bet
For ye know if ye kill me, you'll ne'er find the place
But I swear if ye win then I'll give ye the case"
Black-Handed Crupp says back with a grin,
"An' what'll ye want if ye happen to win?"
"Just," says McGraw, "to get back to me ship
With two days' head start so's to give ye the slip"
. . . CHORUS
"Then name me yer wager, ye one-handed wretch!"
"The bet," says McGraw, "is how far we can stretch
While one part of each of us rests on the bar
For I doubt, Cap'n Crupp, ye can stretch very far."
"Ah-hah!" cries the Captain, "ye've spelt out yer doom
For when I've limbered up I can reach 'cross the room -"
But First Mate McGraw's put his hand 'hind the bar,
And what's he pull out but his eye in a jar!
. . . CHORUS
Every man there can tell he's been had
An' Black-Handed Crupp is lead-eatin' mad
He cuts off his hand with a terrible "Yarr!",
The wrist spurtin' blood as it plops on the bar
. . . CHORUS
Says First Mate McGraw, "Ye haven't won yet
The man who gets farthest from here wins the bet"
Then he bolts from the bar an' flees down the street
With Black-Handed Barnabas close on his feet
. . . CHORUS
Not the mate nor the captain were ne'er seen again
And no man here knows which (if either) did win
But that eye's in its jar, an' them fingers are black
And they're both on me bar until either comes back
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hee
. . . Drink in the breeze an' the salt o' the sea
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hum
. . . Pieces of eight an' a bottle o' rum
. . . Pieces of eight an' a bottle o' rum!
Yarr.
In honor o' the occasion, here be a sea-shanty I wrote some time ago, concerning some friends o' mine:
First Mate McGraw is missing an eye
He won't tell you how, he won't tell you why
I hear that it sits in a jar on a shelf
An' I can't shake the notion he did it hisself
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hee
. . . Drink in the breeze an' the salt o' the sea
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hum
. . . Pieces of eight an' a bottle o' rum!
Murderin' Tom's a first mate as well
He sailed in that night on the Mistress o' Hell
Came to this tavern in search o' McGraw
That hideous grin meant he liked what he saw
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hee
. . . Drink in the breeze an' the salt o' the sea
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hum
. . . Pieces of eight an' a bottle o' rum!
Barnabas Crupp's a terrible sight
His fingers are black, his pupils are white
I'll tell ye the tale how his fingers turned black:
That's all that touched Hell 'fore Ol' Scratch threw him back
. . . CHORUS
First Mate McGraw is missin' a hand
Lost it to cannibals out on the sand
Found out they'd boiled his hand in a stew;
He threw in their chief and he ate the whole brew
Now, Murderin' Tom, he won't be outdone
Keeps track of his kills on the side of his gun
Makes different marks to show who he did
The long ones are men and the short ones are kids
. . . CHORUS
Black-Handed Crupp's as mean as they come
He'll gladly drink blood if there ain't any rum
From the day he was born, he's ne'er lost a fight
And they say he turns into a wolf in the night
. . . CHORUS
Murderin' Tom walks up to the bar
Sits next to McGraw an' greets him with "yarr"
McGraw has known Tom for all o' his life
But he sits an' says nothing and sharpens his knife
Tom says "I know that ye hate what we did
But that don't matter now, I just want what ye hid
I come here to ask what ye done with the case"
McGraw turns to Tom an' he spits in his face
. . . CHORUS
Murderin' Tom leaps up with a yell,
"Yer surrounded by men from the Mistress o' Hell
Now gimme that case or get ready to die -"
Then he fall to the floor with a knife in his eye
. . . CHORUS
McGraw looks around an' says with a smile,
"Ye've all heard the tale o' the Cannibal's Isle
So come at me, maties, there's no time to waste
I'm dyin' to know how the rest o' ye taste!"
. . . CHORUS
None o' the men can look in his eye
An' no one can think of a daring reply
Only one man has the guts to step up
And that's Captain Black-Handed Barnabas Crupp
. . . CHORUS
First Mate McGraw is startin' to sweat
He says to the Captain, "I'll make you a bet
For ye know if ye kill me, you'll ne'er find the place
But I swear if ye win then I'll give ye the case"
Black-Handed Crupp says back with a grin,
"An' what'll ye want if ye happen to win?"
"Just," says McGraw, "to get back to me ship
With two days' head start so's to give ye the slip"
. . . CHORUS
"Then name me yer wager, ye one-handed wretch!"
"The bet," says McGraw, "is how far we can stretch
While one part of each of us rests on the bar
For I doubt, Cap'n Crupp, ye can stretch very far."
"Ah-hah!" cries the Captain, "ye've spelt out yer doom
For when I've limbered up I can reach 'cross the room -"
But First Mate McGraw's put his hand 'hind the bar,
And what's he pull out but his eye in a jar!
. . . CHORUS
Every man there can tell he's been had
An' Black-Handed Crupp is lead-eatin' mad
He cuts off his hand with a terrible "Yarr!",
The wrist spurtin' blood as it plops on the bar
. . . CHORUS
Says First Mate McGraw, "Ye haven't won yet
The man who gets farthest from here wins the bet"
Then he bolts from the bar an' flees down the street
With Black-Handed Barnabas close on his feet
. . . CHORUS
Not the mate nor the captain were ne'er seen again
And no man here knows which (if either) did win
But that eye's in its jar, an' them fingers are black
And they're both on me bar until either comes back
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hee
. . . Drink in the breeze an' the salt o' the sea
. . . Yo ho ho an' a hiddley-hum
. . . Pieces of eight an' a bottle o' rum
. . . Pieces of eight an' a bottle o' rum!
Yarr.