Ahoy fair lass, I be the pirate River.
I run a tight shi'p, but've lost our ma'insail.
Runnin' course along tow'ards treasur',
A firece souther'n wind tore me ship's colours clean off!
Durin' the storm my de'ar f'rst mate fell into the icy lock'r of mist'r Davie Jones.
On course to plund'r a new Jolly Roger, we arrive'd th's port. Here we be seekin' out a new first mate!
All hands on deck!
when I'm not on me dear ship my hands are busy massaging sore muscles, delivering prahna or tossing the throttle on my trusted metal steed. I'm keen on meeting a solid gal for roadtrips, romance, and rowing me boat ashore.
- send a message in a bottle -