Shiver me timbers but it be a sad day for the ol' hallowed pirate accent, which o' course all pirates used on account o' all pirates hailin' from the same great nation — Piratia! Yo ho, I can still see it when I close me eyes, the sound of peg-legs on the docks, all the door handles shaped what so a hook could twist 'em open, the smell o' roast parrot on the breeze, oh matey, 'tis a paradise we gave up to ply the pirate's trade, indeed, sure enough. But 'tis the way o' life when every young Piratian grows up to earn his first eyepatch. Oh shining moment! Then we get 'im drunk and put him on the first pirate ship to pass, who knows where the poor bastard ends up. Yarr.