*sniff*...gimme a second here...*SNORK*...ahh...ok...
Rumba, our Mistress, works hard in this place
I wonder that she keeps a smile on her face
Dealin' with pyrates is no easy thing
'Specially when Fantasy-types start to sing
We boast and we post all our perverted kinks
We even chit-chat about our kitchen sinks
What we really need is a lash of the cat
While forced to read "Twill" (Hey, hold up - what is THAT?)
When time comes for Mod'ing, she's even and fair
(t'were ME, I'd be pullin' out my scanty hair!)
Then Rumba, so gently, with words never harsh,
Sends us to our room - or in this case, the marsh!
Aye, truth it be told, Rumba dear, I may sin
I can't let it go 'til the last word is in
So, yes, I admit it, I've erred and I've sinned
And THAT'S the foul odor that you call "fine wind"
Ah, lass, yer a treasure in this crazy port
Ye hold yer tongue still as we giggle and snort
And post dirty stories and off-color jokes
Now, sit down here, dear, yes, we'll share a few tokes