Pirate Misery

Bin' snifflin' 'nent th' hour o' 12 'pon high deck by me scurvy self me soulless hearties, dogs o' scum on lower decks a-flappin' gums Me keg be dry; I've downed me grog me head's a-swirl wit' nowt but fog me ticker's tight; I'm sans me glow tho' stoked up fer me tit-eyed beau Th' horizon's bleak; me warty toad whose slimy self on me has growed wit' bladed quill scribed clerihew 'n gabbered' wit' a tongue askew Be cursed, yer nit off bearded buns o' rottin' dead whale steeped in sun this 'ere pirate yer beseech creep whence yer hail, yer vermin leech NOTE: ALL 'MISTAKES' ARE DELIBERATELY PLACED TO ACCOMMODATE PIRATE SPEAK. For Nathan's contest. I found myself "at sea" when jilted, hence I opted for pirate lingo.