Okay, here's one about a pirate, his parrot, and a tragic day at sea . . .

Now gather round mateys, you lads and you ladies,
And hear me voice a most tragedied tale
Of courage, adventure, of comrades and treasure
And the most noble pirate who ever set sail

Now no man could draw fear as ol' Cap'n Swab-ear
His crew plundered, pillaged, and pilfered on whim,
They were ne'er-do-well sea punks, just corsairs and grog-drunks
And the Cap'n loved each like illegitimate kin

But try as he might, Swab-ear couldn't bear
To pick any man sailor as his final heir,
For the one he most trusted when per'lous winds blew
Was his good first mate Polly, the Norwegian Blue

Well the men did their duties, took shares of the booties,
The Cap'n's own fortune grew larger each day,
But with each load of plunder, he didn't grow younger,
And the men whispered things no good sailor should say

One night's quiet sailing brought over the railing
A black mast approaching with torn crimson sails
She shifted and howled, like a dark daemon cloud
And the undead aboard her shrieked tidings from Hell

Now the normal man flees when the damned come to duel,
And Swab-ear and his boys were nobody's fool,
Yet they drew weapons, laughing, and Polly squawked with pride,
For dread daemon ships have the best treasures inside

Holy watered cannonades and root beer dipped swordblades
Lay scores of the undead to their final rest
Swab's blokes proved their measure, fighting for that ship's treasure:
A hold's worth of gold, and one giant locked chest

From the wings of the battle, Polly chirped and prattled
'Til two human hands snatched him clear from the sky,
Snapped a wing, snapped a leg, trapped him 'neath an old keg,
Said, "You're Harry's pest now!" then they left him behind

And the men were still laughing as they sailed with their gold,
Until Swab saw his shoulder had no one to hold...

(dramatic rise, then tempo slows)

Then he squeezed hard his sword's blade, and blood streamed through his fist,
He screamed: "Who e'er saves my Polly, my life's treasure be his!"

(tempo picks back up)

Back on that ghost galley, the undead had rallied
To a great spectral captain of skeletal form,
He reached for the distance, then he called forth a tempest
And trapped Swab-ear's ship in the heart of the storm

A keg burst open wide, a parrot flew topside,
'Twas young Polly, fluttering, gasping for breath,
When he saw his ship sink, he plucked up his strength,
For in seconds his brothers would fall 'neath the depths

Fly, Polly, fly, for your moment is now,
And the devil is calling, he's off the port bow,
He comes for your captain, he comes for your crew,
Yet he comes also for those who did this to you

With one leg and one wing, that bird did his thing,
Dragging man after man to the safety of shore,
The ghosts were surprised, but they scattered with sunrise,
And Polly kept flying to the shipwreck for more

Swab's ship and his riches lay 'neath the sea's ditches,
But each man awoke on the beach yet alive,
And one figure looked regal as he rested spread-eagle,
For through him alone had each soul there survived

But a debt bound in blood cannot e'er be unmade,
And since Polly'd been saved, reward had to be paid,
So the giant cursed chest stolen from that cursed ship,
It pulled its new owner deep down to its grip

Now Polly the Squawker lives in Davy Jones' locker,
The sea is his liner, the iron is his cage,
He hungers, but millet will never fulfill it,
For this living death is his wage . . .

So our expedition now ends with contrition
For each man who felt that this bird was so small,
For Polly the Squawker lives in Davy Jones' locker,
May the weight of his feathers press down on us all

Sing, Polly, sing, though your song can't be heard,
You're the avian of ages, the bravest of bird,
Sing of your fate, Polly, squawk, Polly, squawk!
You hatched as a parrot, you die a sea hawk