Wolves on the Wing

I regret only that I be not granted leave by the dread pirate boss to speak so to those customers who we come across as we ply the treacherous waters of our working hours. It would not avenge the innumerable tellings of "Fuck off, asshole!" that each day sees me given, but it would make me just that little less eager to tie meself to a cannon and leap to Davy Jones Locker in frustration.

Ah well. At least I now have the shore leave to get drunk on a glorious cocktail of Metal and Sea Shanties. Enjoy me hearties!