Beware the sea-farin' man with one leg...

That's probably my favorite part of Treasure Island, at the beginning when Jim Hawkins receives a mysterious warning from a blind sailor. Having grown up about 1500 miles from the nearest ocean, I naturally have an obsession with all things sea-faring. So the guys who came up with Talk Like a Pirate Day! are definitely kindred spirits. Not only do they teach you how to talk like a pirate, they teach you how to speak pirate in German too! I've been playing around with pirate name generators and so far I've been dubbed Moanin' Adele Slasher, Dirty Anne Flint, Captain Keelhauler, and...Scribe Purple Tongue? As a kid I always thought it wasn't fair that the boys got to have all the swash-buckling fun, but in reality some cross-dressing queer women got in on the action too. Arr! Splice the mainbrace, me hearties! I'm going on the account!
Anyway, it just wouldn't be Talk Like a Pirate Day without a saucy sea shanty to sing (say that five times fast!). So here's one of my favorites, "Cruisin' Round Yarmouth":

While cruisin’ round Yarmouth one day for a spree,
I met a fair damsel—the wind blowing free.
“I’m a fast going clipper”—“my kind sir”, said she,
“I’m ready for cargo—my hold it is free.”

Singing fal the ral laddie right fal the ral day,
Fal the ral laddie right fal the ral day.

What country she came from I could not tell which,
By her appearance I thought she was Dutch.
Her flag wore rich colours—her masthead was low,
She was round at the quarter and bluff at the bow.

I gave her the rope and I took her in tow,
From yardarm to yardarm a-towing we go.
We towed on together till we came to the Head,
We both towed together through Trafalgary Bay.

We towed till we came to the House of Expire,
We gave her old horse with plenty of ire.
I lift up her hatches found plenty of room,
And into her cabin I stuck my jib-boom.

She took me upstairs and her topsails she lowered
In a neat little parlour she soon had me moored.
She laid in her foresails her staysails and all,
With her lily white hand on my reef tackle fall.

I said Pretty fair maid it’s time to give o’er,
Betwixt wind and water you’ve ran me ashore.
My shot-locker’s empty and powder’s all spent,
I can’t fire a shot for it’s choked at the vent.

Here’s luck to the girl with the black curly locks,
Here’s luck to the girl who ran Jack on the rocks,
Here’s luck to the doctor who eased all his pain,
He’s squared his mainyards—he’s a-cruising again.