International “Talk Like A Pirate” Day, 2012
A hearty YARRRR t’ all o’ yiz!
Date: September 19, 2012
Categories: Nonrandom Craziness, Things We like
Friday, 19 April 2024
Life, the universe, pies, hot-pink bunnies, world domination, and everything
A hearty YARRRR t’ all o’ yiz!
Date: September 19, 2012
Categories: Nonrandom Craziness, Things We like
YARRRR t’you! I am not only speaking like a pirate–or, perhaps, Popular Misconception of a Pirate, but why care I for historical accuracy on this day, it’s fun!–but, indeed, dressing like a pirate. Black-and-white striped shirt, green plaid kilt/skirt (pirates can get away with this combination), and somewhat Napoleonic wars-styled jacket, but with tastefully excessive ornamentation. I be enjoying myself greatly!
Arrrrgh, me hearties! It used ter be me custom, on this most auspicious o’ holidays to attempt to fill yer empty noggins with useful information instead o’ bilgewater by singin’ shanties and givin’ histories of ’em. Terday I’d like tae sing ye a mire recent one that addresses a subject close to me own heart; that’s the loss o’ the sailin’ life.
The Last Shanty by Tom Lewis
When I was just a young lad
me father told me “son,
a sailor’s life is very hard,
the food is always bad.”
But now I’ve joined the Navy,
I’m on board a man-o-war,
and now I find a sailor ain’t a sailor anymore!
don’t haul on the ropes,
don’t climb up the mast,
if you see a sailing ship it might be your last,
just get your civvies ready for another run ashore,
a sailor ain’t a sailor, ain’t a sailor anymore.
The ‘killick of our mess,
he says we’ve got it soft.
Sailin’ ships weren’t like this
when he was up aloft.
We like our bunks and sleeping bags,
but what’s a hammock for?
A swinging from the bulkhead,
or lyin’ on the floor?
don’t haul on the ropes,
don’t climb up the mast,
if you see a sailing ship it might be your last,
just get your civvies ready for another run ashore,
a sailor ain’t a sailor, ain’t a sailor anymore.
They gave us an engine that first went up and down
But then with new technology the engine she went ’round.
We’re good with steam and diesel, but what’s a mainyard for?
A reefer ain’t a sailor in a jacket anymore.
don’t haul on the ropes,
don’t climb up the mast,
if you see a sailing ship it might be your last,
just get your civvies ready for another run ashore,
a sailor ain’t a sailor, ain’t a sailor anymore.
They gave us an Aldis Lamp, so we can do it right
They gave us a radio, we signal day and night.
We know our codes and ciphers, but what’s a “sema” for?
A buntin’g tosser doesn’t toss the bunting anymore.
don’t haul on the ropes,
don’t climb up the mast,
if you see a sailing ship it might be your last,
just get your civvies ready for another run ashore,
a sailor ain’t a sailor, ain’t a sailor anymore.
They gave us a radar set to pierce the fog and gloom,
so now the lookout’s sitting in a tiny darkened room.
Loran does navigation, the sonar says how deep,
the jimmy’s three sheets to the wind, the skipper’s fast asleep.
don’t haul on the ropes,
don’t climb up the mast,
if you see a sailing ship it might be your last,
just get your civvies ready for another run ashore,
a sailor ain’t a sailor, ain’t a sailor anymore.
Two cans of beer a day, that’s you bleedin’ lot,
but now we get an extra one since they stopped the tot.
So we’ll put our civvy-clothes on, we’ll find a pub ashore;
a sailor’s still a sailor, just like he was before!
Now me doves, as ye all know sailin’ is a thing I hold as dear to me heart as me own life. Ye all know that the spray o’ seawater on me face an’ the fresh air liftin’ me hair and fillin’ me lungs are as dear to me as me cozy bunk in the fo’csle at the end o’ a long watch and relaxing wi’ me shipmates ashore.
However, sailin’ ships, while they’re not complete gone and I don’t think they will be fer some time, aren’t as common as they once were. We all know that, because engines ha’ replaced sails and muscles, an’ that’s a cryin’ shame. I’m as much a supporter o’ advancement as the next person, but what I believe we shouldn’ do is forget where we’ve been and realize that old technology still has merit. Sailin’ ships offer transportation that doesn’ use any fuel up (provided the winds are right), and these days that’s an importan’ thing.
These days sailin’ ships are mainly supported by volunteer crews, an’ they’re nearly always strapped fer cash. Some boats I know have gone under because they didn’ have enough loot ter keep ’em goin.
So if any of yiz ever find yerselfs in a position ter work on a tall ship, do it. I know of many a life that’s been changed by th’ experience, inclidin’ me own. If any of yiz can help keep a tall ship sailin’, do it. these boats are more than relics o’ the past. They offer a way o’ relatin’ to to world and yer shipmates that I’ve ne’er found anywhere else, an’ it’d be beyond tragic if they were to all sink and be forgotten.
Ye kids are the next generation o’ ships’ boys (and girls), and we needs yiz to keep the ships a-sailin’.
Thanks, Fiddler! I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to see the “real” words of the shanty until I switch off the blog’s English-to-pirate translation plug-in tonight. (Meanwhile, anyone who actually tries to post in pirate-speak will wind up getting a double dose.)
2.1 (Robert)~ It’s quite alight, cap’n, it’s fairly easy to tell how it goes. Not much of me post was changed. Not bein’ a lubbardly scallywag I know how ter post in pirate, so aside from deletin’ a few o’ me V’s an’ throwin’ some “yonders” in among me linguistic dunnage, the point comes across clear as an obscured horizon.
Avast! ‘Tis the first year I done remembered the day before it did come! I will be sure t’ use right piratical lingo with me shipmates in th’ Astronomical Society tonight. Perhaps we shall even be givin’ th’ landlubbers who wash up at Public Night some learnin’ in proper navigatin’ by th’ stars in pirate lingo…
“Thar be Polaris, ’tis the North Star. Ye see that it be round about forty-two degrees above th’ horizon, t’ match the latitude o’ yonder fair Boston town, but them swabbies sailin’ the South Seas cannae see it at all!”
Arrh, methinks we can even be makin’ newspaper hats at th’ meeting before th’ observin’!
Bilge water! None o’ that happened, on account o’ th’ sky were cloudy an’ we had other business, but I did wear me newspaper pirate hat, I did.
Daaaarrrrr, scallywaggin’ them lilly-livered clouds!
(Two years ago, I translated the IMDB quotes page for Apollo 13 into pirate with the website translator, and Jack Swigert’s line “(Gosh darn) this piece of (cake)!” was translated as “Scallywaggin’ this piece o’ bilge water!”, so those two words are now my go-to pirate swears.)
I’m not particularly dressed up in pirate garb, but I am wearing my Schrodinger’s cat shirt for geekiness. That counts, yeah? I think my “I’m on a boat” shirt is dirty, which is why I’m not wearing it.
My school knows about Talk Like a Pirate Day! Further evidence of its awesomeness.
Sorry for the double post, but I highly recommend reading serious old threads today. Last year, I read a Victorian Round Robin; I forget what it was called, but it was hilarious.
Arr! Methinks I’ve been mistaken! I’d thought Talk Like a Pirate Day was the Seventeenth! I’ll make the best o’ me mistake.
I saw one of my posts translated to pirate talk, and started flipping out until I realized what day it was.
Summary of my life:
Full of booty, swabbing the poop deck, and ARRRGGGHHH!!!!
Yeo-ho, me hearties! It be time to disconnect yonder plug-in and return the blog to its normal way of speakin’. O’ course, nobody can stop yiz from speakin’ pirate, if that be yer pleasure.
Well, knock me down wi’ a belayin’ pin. Pirate Day on Museblog be over fer another year, an’ i missed it. A belated yo-ho! ter all the sea-soaked scallywags as hangs around this fine establishment. Fair winds ter all o’ ye!