Come all ye young fellows who follow the sea Yo-ho and blow the man down It's time to be bathing Lieutenant Marty Yo-ho and blow the man down Oh, give me a plank that looks down on the sea Yo-ho and blow the man down It's a short little walk bound for eternity Yo-ho and blow the man down
Blow that nutso kooky punk back downtown/
Captain Blood, bring forth the prisoner.
- Hey, Nitro. Ain't that one of my chickens? - No, it's a parrot. From the Caribbean. - Don't let it fly away. That's supper. - Aar.
(pirate-like cries of "Aar!")
- (pirate accent) Mr Pascal. Have you any last words before you walk the plank, sir? - You can't do this, you maniac. This is the modern navy! People don't walk the plank. - Cap'n Blood, consign him to the briny deep! (cheering)
- Sonar, play me a dirge, matey. ("Funeral March") (crew hums along)
- Luck be with ye, Mr Pascal. Walk! - This is crazy! This can't be happening. You've lost it, Dodge. You've gone round the bend. You'll hang for this. Stop or you'll all hang.