'Twas The Night Before Christmas (Pirate Version)

 

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and on board the ship,

We were sailing along at a right sprightly clip.

The swords and the pistols were stowed up with care,

So we wouldn’t harm Nicky or give him a scare.

The crew were all snuggled down below on their cots,

Snoring and belching, the blessed ‘ol sots.

And me with my eye-patch and Big Jim with his peg,

Were standing the dog watch with the very last keg.

When all of a sudden, when that keg had dried,

Big Jim pointed starboard at something he spied.

Away to the gunnels I sped on the run,

My feet by the rail, my hand on my gun.

The moon on the crest of the wavy green sea,

Shone up on the faces of Big Jim and me.

When what did we see (and it sure ain’t no dish),

But a miniature skiff towed by eight flying fish.

With a little old coxswain who steered through the fog,

We knew right away; it was ‘ol Nicky Seadog.

More rapid than ‘cudas, his fish on they came,

And he hooted and hollered and called them by name.

“Now, Horace! Now, Castor! Now Tiny and Dread,

On Black Sword! On Vengeance! On Slasher and Fred!

To the top of the poop deck! To the top of the mast!

Up, up and away, I say fly now! Avast!”

As foam from the cyclone before it does fly,

When a squall hits the bow, did they mount to the sky.

Up the tall mast the flying fish flew,

With the skiff full of treasure and Old Seadog too.

And then in the yards, the topsail furled in,

I heard the flip-flopping of each little fin.

As I turned to Big Jim, and started to speak,

Down the mast came the Seadog, with nary a squeak.

He was dressed all in black, from his cap tilted bold,

To the belt on his trousers with its buckle of gold.

A bundle of treasure he had slung in a bag,

And he grunted from the weight of his ill-gotten swag.

His eyes they glowed red, his breath smelled of onion,

His teeth mostly gone, he’d a nose like a bunion!

The beard on his chin was as black as the night,

And he sucked on a pipe with all of his might.

He had a red face and huge, swollen belly,

That shook when he laughed like a herring in jelly.

He was short but well muscled, a right scurvy old tar

And out of his mouth came a thunderous “yar!”

But a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,

Soon gave me to know I would not soon be dead.

He spoke not a word but leapt to the hold,

And filled it with treasure, all glistening gold.

Then turning and leaping up onto the mast,

He climbed to the top in a heartbeat so fast.

He sprang to the skiff, to his team gave a shout,

And away they all flew after coming about.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he sailed out of view,

“Happy Christmas to all, may your courses run true!”

 

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