Drunken Sailor: Part Three
The Doctor was curled up on the deck of the pirate ship, Polly still clutched in his hand. The pirates had mercifully stopped tickling his bare feet, but he remembered having shoes when he boarded the ship. Where had they got to? Unfortunately, his cognitive functions were still relatively fuzzy, so he couldn't quite work out where his footwear had gone.
Then the singing started again.
"What do ya do wit' a drunken sailor?"
"I'm not a shailor!" the Doctor wailed, slurring his words.
"What do ya do wit' a drunken sailor?"
"He is a sailor, don't listen to him," Polly interjected, and the Doctor clamped a hand over his own mouth to prevent any more ventriloquism mishaps.
"What do ya do wit' a drunken sailor, er-lye in the marning?"
The Doctor didn't bother to struggle as he was hauled back to his feet. "Why won't you jusht leave me alone!"
The pirates just grinned evilly, and one of them held out something red and wriggling.
"Put a lobster in his britches! Put a lobster in his britches!" the pirates chorused as a look of dread passed over the Doctor's face.
"You can't be serious…" He flinched as the pirate holding the lobster advanced on him.
"Put a lobster in his britches, er-lye in the marning!"
Seconds later, the Doctor's cry of pain echoed across the harbour.
A/N: Poor Doctor.... :(