By Philip Yates
"Twas the night before Christmas aboard the Black Sark.
Not a creature was stirrin', not even a shark!
The stockin's were stuck to the bowsprit with tar,
In hopes that Sir Peggedy soon would be thar.
"Twas the night before Christmas aboard the Black Sark.
Not a creature was stirrin', not even a shark!
The stockin's were stuck to the bowsprit with tar,
In hopes that Sir Peggedy soon would be thar.
The pirates were snorin' like pigs in thar beds,
While visions of treasure chests danced in thar heads.
An' I with me spyglass and scruffy old dog,
Stood watch in the crow's nest for ships in the fog.
When out in the mist thar arose such a racket,
I slid down the mast with me sword to attack it.
Away to the poop deck I ran very fast,
I threw off the anchor and shouted, "AVAST!"
Straight up from the sea in the foamy white spray,
Flew eight giant sea horses pullin' a sleigh."
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