Monday, September 19, 2005

Yo Ho Ho!

Shiver me timbers! With the dirty weather heading in from the Caribees, I’ll be bound if it slipped my mind that today is Talk Like a Pirate Day! An extra ration of grog to Bryan for setting me on the right course.

So starboard your helm and find the nearest port to put in and come alongside the staith so you can raise a tankard or two. Mind the boom when she jibes, though, or you’ll find yourself headed for Davy Jones’ locker. Argh!

That puts me amind of an old sea shanty:

Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies,
Adieu and farewell to you ladies of Spain,
For we’re under orders for to sail to old England
And we may never see you fair ladies again.

So we’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors,
We’ll range and we’ll roam over all the salt seas,
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England:
From Ushant to Scilly ’tis thirty-five leagues.

The first land we made, it is callèd the Dodman,
Next Rame Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland and Wight:
And we sailèd by Beachy, by Fairlight and Dungeness,
Until we brought to by the South Foreland Light.

— From Peter Duck by Arthur Ransome.