A Weary Night O' Wenchen

Gyarr, so's I went out with a few old mate of mine fer "a couple a pints, we have pilaging in morning." We end up about a fist full in each and having the time of our lives. So's it doesn't take long fer me mates to says the ussual flatery. "The wench was a winkin' at ye," they says. "Barnicles," I says, "T'was no winkin' only be conversin' wit' the owner." First I thought that she was a convercing with the owner, then as I watched her, she began a wachen' me. Tis' true lads, and none of a word of it a lie. Well, a long yarn short, I end's leven' me dock number on the tip, sayen' "call upon me." How pathetic is that. Like I said I was a few in, and had I been in a right mind I would o' just taken her and had me way with her. But, I am glad I got out of there when I did. NEVER drink with lasses that can out drink you, they play tricks of the mind as well as the heart. I am problably goin' to be waiten on this wenches call, her name I never botherd o' asken. Fer what I ask, am I not the fiercest pirate, the black hearted bucanier, what do I can if a nameless wench is impressed by me scabard? Ego, what else? So's I will keep you all posted, as they say, harharhar. Until then, I need to clear me head, I heard rumor of a merchent scow ladden with fine firs. I'm off to gain back me manhood, and perhaps a nice gift fer the lass.