Now hear this... its time, my water lovin' friends, to cast away yer land lovin' legs. Time to head on down to the salty blue depths of the warm currents. Rum is being shipped and all else is in season. so move yer lard and make haste, least ye be left behind to bake dry in the hot summer sun.
Ye all be fools to stay topside. acrid air and stale brezze will reap the life from thy bones and sow not a singel seed. all to be left is dust.all wood to crumble.All metal to rust.
So I be implorin' ya, come with me. we'll swim and be free.
