Here be the morning,
mate, what do you say
we find our sea legs
and go down to the lake,
and ye wear yar white shirt
with the long blousy sleeves
and I’ll wear me corset—
ye’ll tie it for me.
And since we’ve no ship,
no crow’s nest, no plank,
we’ll not have to worry
’bout being shark bait.
Yes, marooned in the sun
and becalmed on the land,
we’ll plunder each other
like hot scallywags—
I will shiver yar timbers,
ye’ll scuttle me fears,
I need yar good body
like I need the night stars—
and those scurvy puppies
who come thar to stare
will be wanting that they were
such fine buccaneers.
Yea, here be the morning
to spend unreal doubloons
and make real love
in our pirate costumes.