A pirate kidnapped me from school one day
“Ahoy, me hearty! Do you want to play?”

I said, “No thanks.” And went on my way.
Then I remembered my manners and screamed, “Mr. Pirate, sir—have a good day!”

“Poop decks and mizzenmasts, you’re not getting away from me.
I was going to grind your bones for pirate tea.”

“Please stop, old pirate. Stop chasing me.”
“All right,” he said, hiding his eyes. “You have ‘til the count of three.”

“One is for your eyeball I’m going to make you eat.
Didn’t you know eyeballs are a pirate’s favorite treat?

Two is for the miles I’m burying you under the sea
Where sharks will drink your brain juice, I guarantee

And three is for the number of fingers you’ll have left on your hand
After I make you play the finger chomping banjo in my pirate band.”

So then the pirate counted, “1, 2, 3!” and hid behind a sycamore tree
I ran for my life, for I did not want to be: eyeless and fingerless and shark food in the sea

I ran away from the pirate and hopped onto a boat
And sailed to an island that was very remote

And to this day, no pirate has come for me
So I’m warning all you people reading this—it’s time to flee