Well the pirates are all tired, it's time to give up life at sea. they've all bought property in the neighbourhood, they'll be living next to you and me. the pta had a meeting today about the children and they don't know what to do, and the clergymen say what about the church, then? and the cops are shaking in their boots. st. francis doesn't have a chance, this is not fair this is not right. you landlubbers, lock your cupboards, keep your daughters out of sight. those pirates have chlamydia, and their hair is full of lice. and in a few short weeks this nice little town will be ridden with sin and vice. there won't be many smiling faces and things will get a little out of hand. yo-ho, make way for chaos when the pirates come to land. their clothes are strange, and i heard they never change, and their names are hard to say. and once they come and settle down, they'll never go away. who knows, they might be murderers or pedophiles or godless communists. or worse, they might be democrats and we just can't take that risk. 'cause with every eye patch, every skull and cross-bones flag, every funny pointed hat and every sword, there's one more reason to show them all the door.