THAT’S WHAT MAKES THEM PIRATES

Captain Blackbeard used to light
his beard on fire before a fight.
Call me dense, but that just might not be too bright. 
Talk about being a hothead!

Pirates do the darnedest things,
things that make you scratch your head.
They could be like us instead,
But that’s what makes them pirates.
That’s what makes them pirates.

Will Dampier the Buccaneer,
Robbed every vessel he sailed near,
till his crew marooned him here
for five long years.
And then, would you believe, he took up pirating again?

Legend says Anne Bonney dressed
up like a man; and like the rest,
she could cross blades with the best,
yet no one guessed.
That is, until she had a baby.

If the sea has caught your love.
If you have heard the calling of
Mermaids singing on the bluff then that’s enough.
No point fighting it—you’re doomed to be a pirate.

THE MERMAID’S FIN

Ah, welcome friends. Come in. Come in.
You’ve chanced upon the Mermaid’s Fin,
the boarding house where pirates be
a short time parted from the sea.
The weather’s fierce, yet all be well.
Come in. We have such tales to tell.

YO HO YO HO (A PIRATE’S LIFE FOR ME)

by Xavier Atencio & George Bruns
© 1967 by Walt Disney Music, ASCAP. Used by Permission.

Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

We pillage and plunder and rifle and loot.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
Maraud and embezzle and even hijack.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

We kindle and char, inflame and ignite.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We burn up the city, we're really a fright.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We're rascals, scoundrels, villains and knaves.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs!
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

We're beggars and blighters and ne'er-do-well cads.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
Aye! But we're loved by our mommies and dads!
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

WHY PIRATES TALK THE WAY THEY DO

A pirate talks the way he does
for one good reason—just because!

ARRH!

First it’s good to have a scowl,
a patch, or maybe a scar.
A hook for a hand is handy,
but mostly, you need a good “Arrh!”
A skull and bones atop your mast
may scare every vessel afar,
but if you would be a pirate,
you should be rehearsing your “Arrh!”

If you’re a pirate say “Arrh!”
If you’re a pirate say “Arrh!
Words like “Avast,” “Ahoy,” or “Yo ho,”
may help you a bit, as pirate words go,
but nothing shows off what a pirate you are
like one little word, and that’s “Arrh!”
If you’re a pirate say “Arrh!”

I’m told the finest buccaneers
have ships to sail the North Star,
and maps to the cursed treasure
they buried at Madagascar.
Some pirates have a peg leg, some
a parrot, a beard set on fire.
But they’re just imposter pirates
if they’re not rehearsing their “Arrh!”

If you’re a pirate say “Arrh!”
If you’re a pirate say “Arrh!
“Shiver me timbers” and “scallywag” may
be very fine words for pirates to say.
But nothing shows off what a pirate you are
like one little word, and that’s “Arrh!”

Pirates drink rum, but I think that’s dumb
when root beer is better by far.
And nothing shows off what a pirate you are
like one little word, and that’s “Arrh!”

LANDLUBBER

Landlubber, landlubber, get off me boat.
I shan’t have a tenderfoot getting me goat.
This ship is for pirates, and you don’t seem ready,
Unless you can cook a good plate of spaghetti
with plenty of meat sauce—enough for the hoard.
What? You can? Well, welcome aboard.

SWAB THE DECK

Swab the deck, swab the deck!
Make it shine or I’ll wring your neck.
Cook my grub, cook my grub!
Clip my nails, then fill my tub
And rub my feet, rub my feet!
The corns you find you’re free to eat.
Swab the deck, swab the deck!
Make it shine or I’ll wring your neck.
And after that, boy, let me lie!
But not before a lullaby.
Swab the deck, swab the deck!
Make it shine or I’ll wring your neck.

THE FLYING DUTCHMAN

What’s that there a-floatin’ beneath the moon’s glare?
Its silvery sails like an old woman’s hair.
Its barnacled planks like the skin of a gator.
Its skull-and-bones-flag like the scar of a traitor.
Its crew like the dead on a Halloween night.
Its captain a madman, his eyeballs milk white.
What’s that there a-floatin’ beneath the moon’s glare?
The famed Flying Dutchman—Beware! Beware!
Egad, it has seen me. It’s turning to fight!
But how did it get in my bathtub tonight?

FIFTEEN MEN ON A DEAD MAN’S CHEST

words by Robert Louis Stevenson and Mike Mennard / music by Mike Mennard

Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest,
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.
Drink and the devil had done with the rest.
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.

Down to the dregs and down to the stones,
Down to the locker of Davy Jones,
Down to the crypt of the captain’s bones,
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.

Down to the depths and down to the den,
Down to the final port of merchantmen.
Nobody there’s coming back again.
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.

Stay to the land and to London town,
Stay where your boots will keep dry-dirt brown.
Stay where Poseidon can’t drag you down,
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.

TATTOO

What will I do, what will I do,
what will I do with my tattoo?
It says “Camille,” but should say “Sue.”
What will I do with my tattoo?

A BUCCANEER SINGING ON BROADWAY

I’m tired of being sea sick,
I’m tired of mutineers.
I’ve been a scurvy scallywag
For ten long years.
I’ve sailed the seven oceans
From San Juan to Algiers.
But tell me where it’s written
I can’t change careers.

I’m a buccaneer who wants to sing Broadway.
I’ve had it with my hook, I’ve thrown my sword away.
I’d rather be tap-dancing on the Great White Way.
Anyone can plunder, but tell me who can say,
I’m a buccaneer singing on Broadway.

I want no buried treasure,
I’d rather have romance,
Why should I batten down the sails
when I can dance?
I’ll see my name in neon
if they’ll give me a chance.
I’ll only hang with pirates
who are of Penzance.

I’m a buccaneer who wants to sing Broadway.
I’ve had it with my patch, I’ve thrown my sword away.
I’d rather have the lead in Guys and Dolls someday.
Anyone can plunder, but tell me who can say,
I’m a buccaneer singing on Broadway.

Look out New York City, soon you’ll see
there is a pirate on the big marquee.

I’m a buccaneer who wants to sing Broadway.
I’ve had it with my ship; I’ve thrown my sword away.
I’d love to be in Chorus Line or Cabaret.
Anyone can plunder, but tell me who can say,
I’m a buccaneer singing on Broadway.

A HANDSOME WENCH

A handsome wench named Lizzy Dench
said she could scare off pirates.
She found a bench and spoke in French
and scared off all the pirates.
Though Lizzy Dench says it was French
that scared off all the pirates,
it wasn’t French but more her stench
that scared off all the pirates.

EARLY IN THE MORNING / BLOW THE MAN

words & music traditional

Weigh-hey, and up she rises.
Weigh-hey, and up she rises.
Weigh-hey, and up she rises—
early in the morning.

What do you do with a drunken sailor?
What do you do with a drunken sailor?
What do you do with a drunken sailor—
early in the morning?

Put him in a long boat till he’s sober.
Put him in a long boat till he’s sober.
Put him in a long boat till he’s sober—
early in the morning.

I’ll sing you a song, a good song of the sea—
with a weigh-hey, blow the man down!
I’ll sing you a song if you’ll listen to me—
give us some time we’ll blow the man down.

Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!
With a weigh-hey, blow the man down!
Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!
Give us some time we’ll blow the man down.

CAPTAIN MOTHER GOOSE

Mother Goose once went to sea
with gobs of silly verse,
but traded measures for lost treasures
and a pirate’s curse.
Now Mother Goose is Captain Goose,
and we’re all none the worse.

Cock-a-doodle-do!
The captain lost his shoe.
The other foot’s a wooden one
he got in Katmandu.
Cock-a-doodle-do!
What else is there to do?
The captain’s got a wooden foot
and one without a shoe.

Goosey, goosey, gander,
Ol’ Captain Alexander
meandered up the stairs
to say his nightly prayers.
His wife thought him a dunce
and threw him out at once.
Poor Captain Alexander
has nowhere to meander.

Whether they need it or not,
the pirates will heat up a pot
of water to wash out the years
of wax built up in their ears.
Now everyone whispers a lot,
and everyone’s kind it appears,
and the captain is suddenly not
so mad, cause everyone hears.

Sing a song of pirates,
a pocket full of mold.
Once we dock in Nassau,
we’ll squander all the gold.
Once the gold is squandered
and all our tales are told,
we will wrap ourselves in rats
to keep away the cold.

CHUM STEW

Tell me, Long John Silver—
tell me about your stew.
I’m craving something hearty
some meaty chunks to chew.
I’m tired of wimpy potage,
that’s why I’ve come to you.
So tell me, Long John Silver.
Tell me about your stew.

Well, since you asked,
It’s got squid heads, rat meat,
little salamander feet,
Then it’s got a fish eye or two.
I pour in stagnant water with
a rotten kangaroo;
I stir it up and call it Chum Stew.
I stir it up and call it Chum Stew.

Tell me, Long John Silver—
tell me about your stew.
Is that a parrot’s feathers,
Is that a cockatoo?
I think I feel courageous,
Let’s have some, me and you.
But tell me, Long John Silver.
Tell me about your stew.

Well, since you asked,
It’s got sea slugs, shark teeth,
mud I took from underneath
Captain’s old, malodorous shoe.
I add some dirty laundry, then
I let it slowly brew.
I stir it up and call it Chum Stew.

Tell me, Long John Silver—
tell me, about your stew.
I’m feeling kind of nauseous;
I think I’ve got the flu.
Perhaps I’m simply hungry,
another bowl will do.
But tell me, Long John Silver.
Tell me about your stew.

Well, since you asked,
It’s got whale fat, black cat,
droppings from a fruit bat,
a turtle with an anchor tattoo.
It’s been a family favorite, and
I made it just for you.
I stir it up and call it Chum Stew.

THE PIRATE’S PET GORILLA

Have I told of the pirate’s pet gorilla? No.
How it strolled up to a villa in Manila? No.
How it toasted the health of Queen Priscilla? No.
How it ate a fried chinchilla with Godzilla? No.
How it said it tasted splendid with vanilla? Well, no.
And for dessert, a caterpillar? No.
That’s good.

SILLY WILLY WALLA WALLA WARY

I’m Silly Willy Walla Walla Wary.
I’m the most ferocious pirate on the prairie.

It’s tough to be a pirate in Nebraska.
It’s tough to be a pirate on the plains.
So either I should move up to Alaska,
or pray it really, really, REALLY rains.

It’s tough to be a pirate on the prairie.
What good’s a pirate ship without a sea?
And worse, my parrot’s only a canary.
What scallywag will be afraid of me?

It’s tough to be a pirate in pajamas!
They’re Tigger ones, and who cannot love that!
But what if I run nude in the Bahamas?
What pirate wouldn’t run in fear of that?

It’s tough to be a pirate near Missouri,
A puddle’s all the ocean that I’ve got.
My crew’s a loyal bunch but all too furry.
I welcome them if potty-trained or not.
He’s Silly Willy Walla Walla Wary.
He’s the most ferocious pirate on the prairie.
He’s handsome, wholesome, hearty—not too hairy!
I’m the most ferocious pirate on the prairie.

TWO BLOKES FROM KILKENNY

Two nicely dressed blokes from Kilkenny
each thought there was one bloke too many,
so they fought and they fit
and they scratched and they bit
till they tore off their suits
and, excepting their boots,
they’re naked! And now there aren’t any
nicely dressed blokes from Kilkenny.

RAMSEY THE PUNGENT PIRATE

Ramsey the pungent pirate,
he plundered the seven seas.
He raided the royal pantries
hankering for slices of cheese.
And once he was full as the moon,
he’d sail away singing this tune:

“I like cheese for my flag hoisted up high;
cheese for the patch that covers my eye.
And if you don’t have some, I’m likely to cry,
‘You’d better have cheese next time I sail by.’”

Ramsey the pungent pirate
awoke to the gleams from the moon.
That moon he remembered from somewhere
was just a big cheese-filled balloon.
So he climbed in the cannon, inspired
He aimed at the moon, then he fired.

Ramsey the pungent pirate
arrived at the moon the next night.
He scooped up a fist full of Muenster
And gaped his big maw for a bite.
You may look at the moon, but don’t laugh—
Cause it looks like he’s eaten up half.

“I’ve got cheese for my flag hoisted up high,
cheese for my patch that covers my eye.
And if you look up at that ball in the sky.
It won’t be the moon but one overweight guy.”

I’D RATHER BE A PIRATE THAN A PIG

Perhaps I’m just a snooty little prig,
but I’d rather be a pirate than a pig.
Thar be no doubt about it—thar’s pirate in my blood.
I’d rather dig for treasure than to wallow in the mud.
We may have things in common, but the differences are big.
I’d rather be a pirate—
I’d rather be a pirate than a pig.

I’d rather be a pirate than a cow.
And I’m not too good at mooing anyhow.
Thar be no doubt about it—thar’s pirate in my blood.
I’d rather chew out scallywags than chew my cud.
We may have things in common, but I’ll show you clearly how
I’d rather be a pirate—
I’d rather be a pirate than a cow.

I plan on going places big—really big!
But I hope that doesn’t hurt the cow or pig.

I’d rather walk the dog than walk the plank
’cause the last time I got wet I promptly sank.
So if you put it that way, this pirate-thing’s a whim,
I’d rather stop at hydrants than take a swim.
If given these two options, I’ll be fierce, upfront, and frank:
I’d rather walk the dog—
I’d rather walk the dog than walk the plank.

CAPTAIN BLAKE

Words by Kelsey Hulsman of Sullivan Elementary,
Winner of our first-ever Pirate Poetry Contest.
Music by Mike Mennard

I'll tell you a tale of old Captain Blake
and the tale I'll tell you is true.
He was tough as nails, has been in jails
and sailed the ocean blue.

Captain Blake was a hawk
watching over the crew.
They had captured 50 ships--
gold and treasure too.

Captain Blake was on a mission
hunting for the Spanish Galleon.
For this is what he did best
on the ship he called the Black Stallion.

Captain Blake went to war
with every ship he saw.
But the Spanish ship had heard the tales
and was ready for them all.

Captain Blake loaded his guns
and was ready for the action.
Captain Blake had never lost
men of any fraction.

Boom! Crash! Bang!
The angry cannons had shot.
The Spanish Galleon was sinking
Captain Blake laughed; this was how he fought.

The war at last was over
Captain Blake got the loot.
The treasure at last was his,
but the Spanish ship got the boot.

SING TO THE OL’ GUITAR, ME LADS

Sing to the ol’ guitar, me lads!
Sing to the tambourine.
Sing to the tap of the wooden leg.
Sing to me, sweet Eileen.

Sing to the bow and fiddle, lads!
Sing to the drum and fife!
Sing to the puff of the captain’s pipe!
Sing to Suzanne, me wife.

Sing to the flute and rattle, lads!
Sing to the castanet.
Sing to the wench in ruby red
whose name I still forget.

Sing to the whiny squeezebox, lads!
Sing to the mandolin.
Sing to my one and only love
in every port I’m in.

CAPTAIN JACK WHINY

The winds are too wild and the waves are too rough.
The food is okay, but there’s never enough.
I want to find treasure, but sailing’s too tough.
My real name is Captain Jack Briny,
so why do they call me Jack Whiny?

My hat is too loose, and my boots are too tight,
I never can manage the rudder just right.
The light of the moon keeps me up every night.
My real name is Captain Jack Briny,
So why do they call me Jack Whiny?

My comrades are meanies, and I think it’s unfair;
they pulled down our flag that flew high in the air,
and there in its place hung my pink underwear.
My real name is Captain Jack Briny.
I wish they’d stop calling me whiny.

THE PIRATE’S WIFE

“Though I am not a pirate, I could be if I wanted,”
the somewhat sullen sailor sat broodingly and grunted.

“I do a bit of sailing; I've seen the seven seas,
I've had a bout with scurvy, and I’m at peace with fleas.

I know my constellations, the North Star for direction.
I've got a hefty cannon and sword for my protection.

I've got a map to treasure, an ‘X’ that marks the spot,
I've got a patch and parrot, and diabolic plot.

I often say ‘Me Hearty!’ I live the pirate’s life.
But I am not a pirate. No, I’m the pirate’s wife.”

PIRATES OF NICE

Some pirates are mean. They pillage and taunt.
They plunder and bully to get what they want.
They break things, and pilfer, and brawl.
But we are not like that at all.

We are the pirates of nice. We are the pirates of nice.
When bullies come at us, they’d better think twice,
cause we are the pirates of nice.

So rather than steal, we choose to give back.
We’d rather plan parties than plan an attack.
We’re kind and polite when we play;
now we get more friends every day.

So to all who are mean, or rude sort of imps,
To those who would mock us and describe us as wimps,
We’re tougher than you any day—
You can’t take our niceness away.

If you are a bully, then take my advice,
and join us—the pirates of nice.

THE GALLOWS’ TREE

The moon is fierce and full and free
and sheds a light on pirates three
who slow dance from the gallows’ tree.
I hope they never dance with me.

FIDDLER’S GREEN

There’s still enough sea for this pirate,
There’s still enough world I’ve not seen.
But one day the sirens will beckon me home
beyond the last wave and Fiddler’s Green.

Fiddler’s Green, Fiddler’s Green,
where everyone dances and no one is mean.
A beautiful mermaid I kissed when sixteen
is waiting for me at Fiddler’s Green.

There’s still enough quest for this pirate,
There’s birth, death, and all that’s between.
But when the last X on the map has been found
I’ll shuttle my way to Fiddler’s Green.

There’s still enough freedom for dreamers,
and air that is salty and clean.
There’s still some adventure for pirates to claim
before they set sail for Fiddler’s Green.

PIRATE MOON

Be near me, pirate moon.
Caress me with your light.
The crow’s nest is a lonely place to spend the night.
My mates are sleeping soundly. The sun will be up soon.
And you’re my only friend tonight, pirate moon.

From where you hang, the world
must seem a tiny place,
and I seem even smaller, still
you touch my face.

I’ll stay awake till sunup and sleep till afternoon,
and dream of when we meet again, pirate moon.

Hold me with your brightest beams,
and tell me how the world you see
is better than it seems.

(c) 2008 Mike Mennard Solutions