Captain Rachowsky was a bawdy old pirate. It used to be he was obsessed with pirating. Their blood and gold, he took them all for himself. But gold weighs heavy on a man and blood heavier still. Where once he wanted to be the most feared pirate of the land, now he just wants to shtup and smell the roses:
O, he shtups all his crew in the mornin’. He shtups for his porridge and beer. And rather than havin’ his breakfast alone, he shtups them all for a shmeer.
They say he shtups all the ladies he passes and offers to carry their schlock. And he never just shtups right at their front door when they invite him into their lokh.
In the evening when all his men party, he shtups to look at the stars. On his back, he can see the glittering midber and fancies himself a skilled dikhter.
And that’s all there is of Rachowsky. There’s not much more of his song. For he worries that when he gets alteh and shluffen, he won’t be shtuppen farlang.