Avast ye scurvy landlubbers! stand to the mizzen and belay the rattlin’ of yer gums, or i’ll hoist the lot of ye on me yard arm!
Arrrr!
Avast! The sun be over the yardarm, an’ the crew is lined up for their tots o’ rum. You there! No line-bustin’, me bucko, ar I’ll crease yar bug-eaten scalp wi’ a belayin’ pin. And hey! No mar o’ them foofy fruit juice drrinks wi’ the teensy oombrellas, like last week, ar I’ll cut out yar liver ‘n’ yar haaaarrrrrrrt!
Buncha faaarrrrmers! Arrrrr.
Ahoy there, mates! Me fellow pirate here at work went back to his shack at lunch and he said thar be the scurvy bilge rats that invented talk like a pirate day on CNN!!
Arrrrr…
We’re having too much fun with this here at work. There’s nothing like seeing the look on an person’s face when they walk into the office here and three guys greet them with a hearty “Arrrrrr!!!”
I actually had a supervisor call me up at 6:20 this morning (I was still in bed) and leave me a voice mail on my cell phone in pirate!
“Arrrr, we wants a training day, in a nice little hotel somewhere on the coast, preferably near Hastings, damn yer eyes!”
Yarr! My husband is celebrating with a game featuring characters from the webcomic Weebl and Bob - Ninja Pirate! (Scroll down the main Weebl and Bob site to find the game listed, if you forget the URL later on; that’s how I dug it up again.)
Thems that died were the lucky ones!
Arrrr…
SCREW the land of “Milk and Honey”! I want Beer and Beef Jerky!
I be a’paintin’ me walls all day. A nice coral color, with a hint of scarlet like blood.
Now I be goin’ to lunch. Who sells grog around these parts?
This neighborhood be Irish, who DOESN’T sell grog?!
ARRRRRR!
<goes off, singing filthy wench songs>
‘Tis downloadin’ songs from the net all day, I’ll be doing, and devil take the scurvy RIAA dogs that try to stop me. Arrrr.
Avast, ye! 'Tis not be a pirate day!
Then again, those RIAA dogs deserve to be run up the mizzenmast and then keelhauled!! (Not both at once, of course).
Download away, me hearty! We’ll cover ye from here!
Arrr
"When we come into town
To spend all our spoils,
A good time will be had by all…
We’ll all head to some pub
To get drunk off our arses.
When we’re here there ain’t no last call…
I’ll get rum for meself,
And buy ale for me friends.
And a great deal of loot
On the wenches I’ll spend.
When the money’s all gone,
It’s off to sea again,
To trade cargo for cannon-ball…"
I’m listening to the Corsairs. Arrr!
ARRRRR. And it’s navigatin’ this here computer with one eye, I am. Me scurvy daughter let me borrow her black eye patch this morning. ARRRR.