Blow me down if this Tavern Wench hasn't gone and invited in me old nemysis, Long John SiLver! And he the one who took off me right leg and most near stole me name, and then got rich and joined the squireens when he got the money from Walt Disney fer mockin' me in that moven pichure! Why, he couldn't ever outdo Loooooooooong John SLiver, no, not in drinkin' or in fightin' or in wenchin'! No, and not in parts missin', either! Here I stand, missin' me leg and me hand and me arm and me eye and me toes and me appendix and me umbilicus, but with the important parts still there and in fine workin' order and the Tavern Wench has to invite that bit of slimy bilgewater, that bit of whale shite, that disgrace to the Spanish Main, someone who can't hold his rum and is so clapped out that his privy member was taken off for the health of cabin boys the world around!

And me the one who gave his all for ship and shipmates, to be so insulted. Why, is like being called a landlubber! Fie upon ye, Wench! Fie!