A/N: I don't mean to offend anyone who is Mexican, Mormon, a pirate, from Botswana, or any of the other things mentioned in this poem. By the way the title character came from a song my friend Anna and I made up.

The Mexican Mormon Pirate

Bunky Bananas in a tropical sea,

spelunking happy treasure in a Canadian Tree.

It's the Mexican Mormon Pirate riding a bee.

Twittering, spittering, happy go lucky lunks,

The Mexican Mormon Pirate ran into a band of punks.

Hunky, tunky, punch, rat-tat-tat,

The Mexican Mormon Pirate was clunked with a bat.

Rolling, strolling, bowling down the hill.

Off with the loot they thought it was a thrill.

Blood boiling, anger spewing, heart crying,

The Mexican Mormon Pirate went a spying.

Coconuts and lollipops and jujubes he saw.

He spied those mangy thieves breaking the law.

They had careened a dingy for undersea water shipping,

but soon found that barnacles had caused a ripping.

So they patched and thatched it up with marijuana

and sailed their itsy-bitsy dingy to Botswana.

The Mexican Mormon Pirate jumped hopped and skipped onto his vessel,

in hopes to bamboozle the very same thugs he intended to wrestle.

It was thrilling,

It was nifty,

It crackled with starburst stars spilling.

The Mexican Mormon Pirate tracked down that little pontoon

and soon all the little thugs' faces turned maroon.

They thought they had outwitted him,

but obviously he had them by a limb.

For the Mexican Mormon Pirate had come with the authorities

and the punks found themselves the laughable minorities.

They were arrested, tried, and sent to jail

where they spend their days talking to a quail.

And the Mexican Mormon Pirate sailed home with his loot,

to the wacky tacky island shaped like a boot.