Blisterin' barnacles, me hearties, it be that day again! An' me so addlepated wi' vinnie rouge, bein' holed up in France (no shortage o' grog though the place do be full o' forriners) - the notion clean went out o' my head. Now between ye an' me, the question that's firing' a cannon through every scurvy scallywag's noggin is this: ye can walk the plank but can ye talk the talk? There's the rub, me hearties. Arrr, ye lily-livered landlubbers - be bold! For 'tis this that gladdens the cockles o' any self-respectin' pirate. Swish an' swash, an' show the world you're not afraid to shiver the timbers of any proud beauty.
Be that a yardarm in yer doubloons or are ye just pleased to see me?
C'mon, ye malingerin' knaves - sing along wi' me!