The Pantsless Pirate has a not so secret, secret; He likes to sing.  Usually about two mariners trapped in the belly of a whale.  In fact for the longest time that was all he would sing about, The Mariner’s Revenge.  Somewhere along the line someone dubbed him the one song bard.  This being a terribly useless sort of thing our good old Pantsless Sea Rat began musing about what you should do with a Drunken Sailor.  Way hey and up she rises.  This only made him a two song Bard so the quest continued.  He heard tale about a poor legless fellow on a Halifax Pier who claimed to be the Last of Elcid Barret’s Privateers.  We arrive at three songs and counting for the Pantsless Wannbe Bard.  Some persons of note thought that perhaps the One…Two…Three Song Bard should try and move beyond tales of the sweet sea and salt.  So he thought to his days as an Irish laddie Up Among The Heather at the hill of Benachie.  Where the lads and lassies play.  This brought his sum total of singable stories to four, leading the useless Pantsless ponce to think that maybe he could sing in front of people sometime, perish the thought.  Perhaps one of these days hell try his old pipes in front of a crowd, crazier things have happened.

With distinct sincerity from a man who was never a pirate.

The Pantsless Merchant.