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In memoriam TPB, The Ballad of a Voyage

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Intrepid Vikings they ventured out

upon a storm-tossed ocean,

in a leaky sealskin rowboat

with a cupholder for hand-lotion.

They wanted to be Pirates,

but navigation was a no-go

and the GPS was fuktop,

so they commandeered a logo.

By talking good bluster

or the virtue of chance,

the sails were puffed up

and that ghost-barque did dance.

Soon the rum and the grog

pissed outta the gunports

and their carefree carousing

was praised up as 'good sports'.

Thus TPB Crew

fat as kings they grew,

in days of yore

from the booty store,

getting anchored in a whore

as enemy troops massed ashore.

MAFIAA-lawyer directed

Pigs creeping softly by night

swarmed up o'er the bows

to our matelots fright.

Yarr, they'd talked a good bluster

but did put up no fight,

bent Judge buffed off the lustre

and they started to shite,

betrayed by 'their' lawyers

who'd sworn all right on the nite.

With 21" rubber truncheon

jolly-rodgered in a dungeon

tender sphincter rent asunder

Captain's fallen judge's plunder

how it happened is no wonder,

still, enough to make you chunder.

Panicked by hella unkind attention

the Capt'n whang'd autodestruct

to scuttle the beauty invention,

but first, underarm he tuckt

a compensatory nosebag

marked 'licenced swag';

the afterthought his way fukt.

Diving in lifeboats

roared the Mutinous Crew

'Tis fitting that tit,

we nailed to the ship,

but anyho0,

Rest In Pieces, TPB,

for tomorrow we sail, without you.

---CopyLeft, by BvvM, 2009---