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the Penguins of Penzance
[ home ] I woke up on the white sand beach of a desert island somewhere in the South Pacific. I was up to my waist in the crystal clear Pacific waters. My clothes were in tatters. A thick jungle sprawled out before me. And from somewhere within came the singing. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!" With great strain to my muscles, I raised myself and ventured into the jungle. When I was washed off the deck of my ship last night in the midst of that terrible storm, I was certain that all was lost. But these voices now gave me hope. Within the jungle, I found a path and quickly made my way towards the source of the unruly (and increasingly peircing) singing. The voices grew louder until finally I came upon the clearing. From the clearing's edge I watch in utter astonishment. The group was indeed unruly. The rabble danced and skipped and hopped around a burnt out campfire, singing their terrible songs. They wore kerchifs on their heads and patches on their eyes (some on both eyes) and wooden pegs for legs and arms... or should I say flippers? For these pirates (if that is indeed what I can call them in this day and age) were not men... but penguins. |