MacBrenda

[pieces o'nine]

Second Pirate:
Who arrrgh ye callin' a sun-uv-york, ye festerin bagge o'haggis?

Third Pirate:
Yarrrgh, duz ye boite yer 'ook at hus, mayte?

Fourth Pirate: (aside to first pirate)
Be thee law on arrrgh soide if oi saias 'aye'?

First Pirate:
No.

Fourth Pirate:
Nay, mayte, oi duzzint boite me 'ook at ye, mayte, but oi boites me 'ook, mayte!

Second Pirate:
Duz ye 'ave a hy urn de fish an sea, mayte?

[black bart]

Fourth Pirate's Mother: Giveth hense forth iron tablets to all our sea men of lowlee rank...let them not suffer hense the scourge of rickets or scurvee.

Fourth Pirate: Hello Mum

Enter Walk the Planko and MacBrenda stage left

Planko: Thou shalt be Queen MacBrenda

MacBrenda: Thou shalt get a clip around the ear if you call me Queen again ye wig wearing dimwit. Now where be that blaggard Captain MacDavel? He oweth me a snog fer crushing them Revenue men ta death.

[pieces o'nine]

MacBrenda
Here's thee smell ov fish head stoo still: awl thee
perf yooms ov Arabia will not sweeten this little
hand. Oh, oh, oh! But soft!
What light through yonder porthole breaks?
Oi must screw me cooridj t'thee stickin-playce.

[black bart]

First Pirate: What luverly chestnuts hath MacBrenda

Second Pirate: Thinks ye to chew on them...

Third Pirate: I always knew he were a nutter...more chance ta sail with foul Cronan in a sieve

Fourth Pirate: Anyone seen me mum?

[TwistedSister]

Is this yer Mum????
[/quote]

[Detective TurtleHolmes]

First Pirate: Nay, that cannae be hys mum. Lookes nuffin loike an Aztekian.

[pieces o'nine]

MacBrenda:
T'marrow, an t'marrow, an t'marrow,
Lurches this sorry shippe frum day t' day.
Frum thee last tinne barrel ov fish head stoo;
An awl arrrgh cabbin bouys 'ave lighted fools
Thee way t' Cronan's deepe. Out, out, foul bilge rats!
Yer knot but scrabblin' paws, poor hex cyooses,
That sqeake an fret yer arrrghs hupon thee deck,
An then -- caught by NefYoo. 'Ere be a tail
Tol' by an idjit wry-tin hin Pyrate,
Sigma Phy in nuffink.

[black bart]

First Pirate:(reading from his parchment script) Screw you...

...er, sorry, Screw your courage to thee Admiral Benbow's happy hour...if music be the foode of love...I'll have a Chicken Tikka Massala and half an hour at Madame Fifi's forsooth...