Seas Of Mirth

That be a question many have asked, but few have lived to tell the tale. We come from distant shore 'cross stormy waters (derby) with tales of woe that will shake you to your earthly core. This here tale, be one of a mysterious island where only the most deadly ladykillin' womanisin' snake of a man once dwelt. Thar I saw with my one good eye, the ghost of such a man. The Ghost......... of Tom Jones! Dar... Many nights did i spend on such an island, quaking in fear of the monster, until i, through violent gusts of mighty draft, made it back to my vessel. Climbing back upon my lady, which you yellow bellied land lubbers would call a "boat", i found that this horrible spectre had killed 'alf me crew, Gaaaaaaarrrrrr!. The survivors had but a gasp left in them before he came back and finished them off with poisoned arrows of an unspeakable kind. After that 'twas just myself and few others that remained, fellows gifted with the magic art of music... I used to hear stories of people who claimed the dastardly Jones could sink as much rum as he could ship. Thar on that cold wind swept night, i saw such a thing with my very eye. 'Twas the ghost of Tom Jones, no mistakin', and he got through the entire ships stock of Navy Rum in one sitting... only a being with no soul could do such a thing. So listen me hearties... and listen up good.... we here be the seas of mirth.... and through many a long hour we have harnessed the power of the Harmonium to bring you our tales in all their horrible glory.

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