Words of the Constant
Needs a warm cacklers bum settin' on it.
Do it be hatchin'?
Don't be gettin' hard boiled on me.
I don't be seein' this eggy hatchin' any time soon.
Th'cacklers comin' anytime!
Thet thar's a big egg!
Th'egg basket's empty.
Tis a m'ghty sticky sludge!
Looks like a wee boat!
Y'arr, cov'r me in tarr!
Thet b'lookin' mor'n a tad low.
Ain't doin' nuthin'!
Tis workin'up a mighty sweat!
There be sludgy treasure down ther'.
Ol' Woodlegs' pegs'd get stuck f'sure!
Ah, a fine brew.
'Tis a growin' ship mast.
A botan'cal barber-surgeon.
Grub.
'e'll be a fine one.
Ye ain't too tall arrr ye?
I best find some food fer yer belly.
Don't ye be thinkin' on eatin' ol'Woodlegs!
Needs more o'them purpley gemmies.
She be in focus now!
Saves the wood in ol'Woodleg's wooden legs.
I don't be knowin' where it leads, but it be ready ta take me.
Could take ol'Woodlegs ta seas-end!
Thar be a piece a'missin'.
It be nigh ready.
A simple pirate like me ain't be knowin' whut this be fer.
Ta my eye it be a crank fer crankin'.
A vessel. But na a seagoin' one.
Well, tha be'a strange sight.
Thar be'a use ta it. But me na knowin't.
Ol' Woodlegs'll take it with'im.
It be'a hummin'.
Strange armor be this.
A ring wit' no jewels, bah!
What a curious piece.
Thar be secrets hidden in this here box.
Aye, Woodlegs'll give it a crank.
Whut a potatey needs a helmet fer me never be knowin'.
I'd give it a bite, but I know it don't be gold.
Aye eye!
I prefer a fast ship and th'wind at me back.
A teleport o' call.
Thet's whut ye get fer trustin' yer snoozes ta land.
I prefers a water bed.
Like in me dreams!