The Shark

Just a little tune Dolce strung together about Revel.


The Shark

Well, I bet your bosun wields the lash like it be part of their arm,
And your Master-at-Arms be up to the task of ensuring you do them no harm!
But when they walk by and ye tremble standing in the shadows they cast
Is it them ye fear or the sting of the whip you’ve felt so much in the past?
On The Lady’s Purr we know better than to piss off our Master-at-Arms
But ’tis not from the whip coiled at her hip, but rather her natural charms!
For her smile is wide and gleaming and her teeth are sharp as a knife,
And with one little bite I promise you, she could easily end your life!
Oh the cool blue color of her skin belies the rage underneath!
This is why we call her “The Shark”, that and her five rows of teeth!

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