Hark! The commander speaks:

A crumb, a loaf, a battered crust,

engage the auxiliary mayonnaise!

A ten nogg bonus to the grout that lands me the first pepperoncino!

Now me grouties, me languid fruit sniffers,

me gumbile wads of toasty sweet pastries;

hold fast the butter, the blue squid pâté,

the brie and the cream and the onions.

Our liver is not yet wursted, nor our figgins pinched to ripeness.

By the three stars of Orion's bright belt,

by the thruster's full speed aimless ambling,

you'll not get one bite 'til you've cleaned your room, done the dishes,

taken out the trash, and finished my homework.

Hark! The commander speaks:

All arms to fore! All arms to fore!

The rooster crows o'er the manifold.

Brush yer beak, you septic foam mango,

you confluence of all things perverse and dental.

So the bulkhead quakes, the circuitry curdles,

the navigator lies lilac in splinters of myrtle.

Avast me gumbos! Take heed of my saying:

no lesser breath stirs the morning decaying

than this galvanized bird,

the grouties decrying,

whose five feet grasp the manifold spikity-flux.

Now go to your duty you fully armed whatsits.

Roast me a birdie with whatever you've got.

I want nevermore to be jarred from my napping,

or all your names go on the hygiene report.