"Well there it is. Death at a funeral.
Avast me hardies, Captain Death has crept out of a bunghole and seized upon the right reverend Deadheart and like the landlubber Albert Camus once said "life is short and meaningless." Well shiver me timbers NOT. Captain Death has left the room like a Velvet Elvis flees from chumbuckets. Blackhearted bastard as he is, the Almighty decreed he only take one true pirate at a time.
But Sam the Shark who lies before, well he be the last of a long line. Great, great grandson of a would-be privateer who married a thieve'n injun squaw and made their way to the Floridas for the big par-lay over De Leon's bones. Put him into the bunt the slack of the clews (not too taut), the leech and foot-rope, and body of the sail, may your sail not luff in the cool breezes of paradise. It is to the happy waters of Augustine that we send Sam to his forbears.
An aahrr-phan boy like the pirates of lore, his Mom and Pa lurking in Davy Jone's locker off the coast Bermuda. He know what it is to be an aahrr-phan boy and I can tell ye, it was not greatly to his pleasure. He comes here rum all out, his jib outstretched and his body bound by hempen rope.
Now do not shed tears like scurvy bilge rats. Sam would not be proud of ye for crying. He would call ye goat buggers and worse. So Bar the doors Molly against the dastardly constable, raise the mizzenmast high and bring us all a noggin of rum-fortified grog and drink a hearty cup to the memory of Sam the Shark Hayes. Now say Aye-Aye and Amen and be going on your ways.