Alright mates, as promised. St. Patty’s Day be soon, and by th’ powers, I promised ye a tale. The Tale o’ the Green Seas…

Th’ day started like any other, me flagship glidin’ into some old cove. Where? I can’t say. Trade secret, savvy? Anyhows, we glide in like an obese sea cow, fit t’ burst fer the gold in arrr hold. While me men got to stashin’ the gold and plunder in our hidden hidey-holes around th’ cove and got a bonfire goin’, I set out into th’ jungle to make sure we was alone.

While crestin’ arrr lookout hill, what do I find? A wee Irishman, dressed all in green. Similar t’ the peddler’s holiday outfit, nows that I think ‘bout it. His hair were short an’ green as th’ lush grass on the hill. Well, his green outfit were dryin’ by the fire; visible on his bare chest were multiple tattoos, some clovers and some patterns o’ Celtic design. He were puttin’ on his now dry outfit as I entered th’ clearin’, and he turned to face me with a strange staff ready fer combat. I drew me sword an’ demanded; “Who arrr ye, an’ how do ye come to this place?” “M’ name is Finnigan O'Hare,” says he, in a thick Irish accent. “I came t’ this place t’ find a man worthy o’ the vast treasures of my people.”

Of course, bein’ a pirate, I knew I were th’ worthy man. I told him as such, an’ he just laughed. Challenged me t’ a challenge he did. Said whoe’er could drink th’ most rum would be worthy of th’ gold. I be a fierce and fearless pirate cap’n, how could I lose? Honestly, I don’t r’member much after that. All I knows is that m’ first mate woke me up from b’side a dead bonfire, me arms around two massive skull chests full o’ gold and jewels an’ other precious plunder. Me splendid pirate coat, embellished vest, an’ dark black shirt were gone an’ me bare chest were adorned with a massive clover tattoo! As if that weren’t enough, th’ sea were green as well! Th’ whole sea, not just arrr little cove! I has no idea what we did, but me crew says they heared singin’ and chantin’ all night long, and strange shadows cast by a roarin’ fire on the hill. It were sometime overnight when the seas changed color. By th’ powers, I swears if I ever find Finnigan O’Hare again I will get back me favorite coat an’ make him answer fer what he done, ye can lay t’ that!

Anyhow, that be the tale o’ The Green Seas. I feels bad, I do; hopefully th’ seas be back t’ normal soon. If not, I be hirin’ crew to track down a certain Irishman who owes me a coat. If ye sees him, point him my way, thar may be some gold in it fer ye. Take what ye can, and give nothin’ back!