No scurvy herrrre!!!

Avast!  Ye barnacled, bilge-swabbin' rap-scallions!

Fer th'ignernt land lubbers amungst ye, today be Talk Like A Pirate Day!!  So all's rise up and gimme yer heartiest "YARRR!!!"

Heartier'n that, ye peg-legged, one-eyed villainous tardy-gaited strumpets!  Aye's know yer weak, but arrrr ye tone deef to boot?

NOW gimme a mighty YARRR!!!

...better... but thar's much work yet to be done, ye mewling idle-headed lewdsters, the lot of ye!

And ware!!  If ye dare to comment in anythin' but a surly piratey tone, yer comments are sure'n to be edited or deleted off'n the decks.  Ye've bin warned, ye lot of pox-faced, lily-livered swine!  It'll be ten lashes from the cat o' nine, if ye's cross me!  Twenty, if yer insubordinate.  (Yer demeanour, not yer clauses.)

(Oh, and bys the by, fer the rest o' todee, thar be no Simian Farmer on this heer blog-ship.  For my true and honist pirate name be none other than Dirty Sam Rackham!!  Now goes and git yer own true pirate name... if ye dare, ye cowardly scurvy-ridden, adle-pated miscreants!)

Now... Ye none of ye will ken this, but the wee cabin-boy what calls my home his own (that bein' my son, ye dawgs), was right close to contractin' the scurvy this weekend!  'Twas 'nuff to put the fear'n gawd into the 'earts of me dame 'n me both.

So we did th'only thing we coulda thought of to stave off the Sailor's Death: we right up and ordered in a large batch o' that there Chinie Food.  Now, youse might be thinkin' that I've gone off and swum too long in the grog (aye, which I've done on a time), but 'twasn't the case this weekend, ye suspicious nags!  Fer me dame an' me both knows that when youse order in the Chinie Food, thar be plenty o' lemon wedges that's come with the dry ribs and the battered shrimps, and too with the sweet'n'sour chicken balls. 

(I'd'a never guessed that there's chickens out there what has balls, but being as I'd not be labelled a cowardly yella-belly for fear'n food, I ate me fair share.  And they're damned fine balls to boot!  Lard knows I've et worse fair in many a port on many a coast -- and with many a wench on my knee -- in my time on the high seas, mark me.)

So we gave th' sickly-lookin' cabin-boy the lemon what to administer the Vitamin Sea and fer to bring back his colour, him lookin' deathly pale and all.  As ye can see from the picture below, methinks he got the fruit in the knick o' time, fer death musta surely bin knockin' at 'is door:

And though it may seem intolerable cruel to foist upon the wee lad a wedge o' sour lemon, the restorative effects arrrrr joined by a guilty entertainment what's given to me and muh missus by th' grateful expression o' relief on the wee squid's face at bein' heeled and yanked back from the brink o' death:

Gawd bless arrrr healed young whipper-snapper!  We'll turn 'im into a treasure hoardin' pirate yet!  He's already gots the squinky eye what'll be hankerin' for a patch some day...

Comments

[Jenn]

The more I read you, the more I swear that you are one of my husband's crazy Calgary buddies.

That's a GOOD thing.

[Editor's note, this should read:]

The more'n I read ya, the more I swear by the bluid of the White Whale that yer one o' me 'usbands rum-fuddled Calgary mates.

YAR! That be a GOOD thing.

[Jenn]

Je ne parle pas pirate.

[Tina]

Shiver me timbers ! A true Buccanneer ye be, too .... Aye, me hearty, Tina

[Penny]

Like I didn't have to listen to this from Keith the entire day!!! What is it about guys loving this pirate thing??? I truly do not get it....( besides the obvious joy of calling the missus a wench and demanding she swab yer deck) ;) Penny