Mug in Hand

Oh, aye lads wouldn’t you agree?

It’s a might hard to fight with a mug in your hand

Sword in the other getting heavy as a mother

And ya wind up spillin’ all yer beer

Oh, aye, me boy it’s plain to see

Yer a fool if ya duel with a mug in your hand

Sit right down, I’ve got this round

A couple more and you’ll be thinkin’ clear

Well there I was, sittin’ in the pub mindin’ my own business; when in walks this perfumed little fop of a man-child, lookin’ like he was bein’ eaten by lace ruffles.

Anyway, he had this young lady in tow, who I might allegedly have recognized, and as soon as she started pointin’ at me and whisperin’ to him, I just knew there was about to be trouble.  So he storms over, hollerin’ and screamin’ and rantin’ and ravin’ about how I’d dishonored his sister. 

And I, of course, told him without delay that there’d been nothing dishonorable about her performance, and in fact, she’d brought great honor to their house. And let me tell you, he did not like that one bit, but she was all winks and smiles behind his back.

Tryin’ to be helpful, I told him I’d be quite happy to give her another go if she had an opening…or two. And I was talking about her schedule of course, but I guess that was really the wrong thing to say, ‘cause he started turnin’ all purple and foamin’ at the mouth, hollerin’ about havin’ my blood right here in the pub.  All I could do was turn to me mates and say…

Oh, aye lads wouldn’t you agree?

It’s a might hard to fight with a mug in your hand

Sword in the other getting heavy as a mother

And ya wind up spillin’ all yer beer

Oh, aye, me boy it’s plain to see

Yer a fool if ya duel with a mug in your hand

Sit right down, I’ve got this round

A couple more and you’ll be thinkin’ clear

So at this point he’s still shoutin’, and I’m startin’ to think he’s actually serious.  Just in time my favorite wench came over with a round of ales and a bottle o’ rum. I offered the little miscreant a mug, but he told me in no uncertain terms that he did not drink ale with scoundrels. 

Well, I was naturally quite offended, but before I could ask what he did drink with scoundrels, he looked over his shoulder and noticed his “sweet, innocent” little sister about to be boarded by about half o’ Markus the Blue’s pirate gang, and lookin’ none too displeased about it, either. 

So Ruffle Boy rushed over and tried to pull her away, and the pirates politely reminded him he had no standing to make decisions for a grown woman, at which point his face went from red to a lovely shade of plum.

He was harassin’ the pirates instead o’ me at this point, which gave me time to drink his ale and then start workin’ on mine.  And apparently the pirates had been listenin’ to our conversation, ‘cuz they just looked at the little weasel and said…

Oh, aye lads wouldn’t you agree?

It’s a might hard to fight with a mug in your hand

Sword in the other getting heavy as a mother

And ya wind up spillin’ all yer beer

Oh, aye, me boy it’s plain to see

Yer a fool if ya duel with a mug in your hand

Sit right down, I’ve got this round

A couple more and you’ll be thinkin’ clear

So this poor lad still wanted blood, right? Only now he wanted some out o’ the pirates; which is to say I’d just cheerfully become a spectator in this little drama.  The pirates told him he had to win the right to duel the first mate, and to do that he had to outdrink the cabin boy.  He gave this pathetic little laugh and took the challenge.  But he hadn’t seen the cabin boy. 

They called him that because he was the size o’ the cabin…and the bilge…and the hold…and that kilt he was wearin’ looked suspiciously like the missing mainsail from the good ship What The Fuck. He’d also been drinkin’ since daybreak, so Ruffle Boy did have what some would consider to be an unfair advantage.

After about eight shots ‘o whiskey, the cabin boy broke wind out of both ends and toppled over, pavin’ the way for the Lord o’ Frills to go and get himself skewered. I’ll give the lad credit, though.  He took his whiskeys like a sailor; but as the first mate was quite a swordsman the pirates just looked at each other and said…

Oh, aye lads wouldn’t you agree?

It’s a might hard to fight with a mug in your hand

Sword in the other getting heavy as a mother

And ya wind up spillin’ all yer beer

Oh, aye, me boy it’s plain to see

Yer a fool if ya duel with a mug in your hand

Sit right down, I’ve got this round

A couple more and you’ll be thinkin’ clear

So, the pirates tried one more time to convince the boy to have an ale and think it over, but out came that “no ale with scoundrels” thing again. 

I guess that didn’t include stealin’ ale from scoundrels, ‘cuz he stormed over and grabbed a mug off my table in one hand, hefted his sword in the other, and stumbled out onto the street; screamin’ all the while for the blood o’ pirates and sayin’ all kinds o’ unhealthy stuff about their mothers and their sisters. 

No sooner did the first mate step out o’ the pub with his sword than the boy passed out stone drunk in the middle o’ the street, suckin’ cobblestones as he snored. The pirates had their revenge by whippin’ ‘em out and leavin’ him soaked in what was left o’ the ale they’d been rentin’ and headed back in the pub.

I had to wait in line for five minutes, but I did finally manage to grab his sister, who it turns out had been comin’ to look for me when her brother decided to tag along.  As I was walkin’ out o’ the pub with his sister on my arm, I just couldn’t help but pause to enjoy how this illustrated my point.

Oh, aye lads wouldn’t you agree?

It’s a might hard to fight with a mug in your hand

Sword in the other getting heavy as a mother

And ya wind up spillin’ all yer beer

Oh, aye, me boy it’s plain to see

Yer a fool if ya duel with a mug in your hand

Sit right down, I’ve got this round

A couple more and you’ll be thinkin’ clear

A couple more and you’ll be thinkin’ clear

A couple more and you’ll be thinkin’ clear