Ahoy, mates! That scurvy swab Jay Currie reminds us, like, that this day be Talk Like A Pirate Day. And I be robbin' him of his links, and if he don't like it, I'll cut him to bits and feed his liver and lights to the gulls, so I will.
Yer slaverin's must conform to the spirit o' the Jolly Roger or they'll be ripped out like the still-quiverin' heart of a star-crossed landlubber, like we did for this poxy knave. (Aye, even now it's roastin' on a stick while he burns in the greasy flames of Hell, along with that bilge-sucking Newton blaggard.)
Fair winds, me hearties!
Yer slaverin's must conform to the spirit o' the Jolly Roger or they'll be ripped out like the still-quiverin' heart of a star-crossed landlubber, like we did for this poxy knave. (Aye, even now it's roastin' on a stick while he burns in the greasy flames of Hell, along with that bilge-sucking Newton blaggard.)
Fair winds, me hearties!