On International Talk Like a Pirate Day, two Australian linguists look at how pirate words are preserving old language – and other things that make you go “arrr”.

Thereâs no shortage of special days throughout the year. Some â like International Literacy Day â speak to important issues in society. Others speak to our inner dag.
Today marks one of the daggier days, International Talk Like a Pirate Day. It marks the occasion when Americans John Baur (aka Olâ Chumbucket) and Mark Summers (aka Capân Slappy) first proclaimed in 1995 that everyone in the world should talk like a pirate.
And so we thought weâd take the chance to answer a few pirate questions. Why do pirates say âarrrâ? What are timbers â and what happens when they get shivered?
Letâs get underway me language-loving âearties.
The modern-day fiction of pirate-speak emerged from pirate-themed amusement rides, books and films, especially the Disney classics like Treasure Island, the Pirates of the Caribbean series â and of course Australiaâs own Captain Feathersword of The Wiggles fame.
The signature pirate voice is West Country (or some version of it). But why West Country?
True, south-western England produced well-known pirates like âBlack Samâ Bellamy and âLong Benâ Every, but famous pirates came from all over. Captain Kidd hailed from Scotland, Black Bart from Wales, William Burke from Ireland and Edward âNedâ Low from London.
But it was Dorset-born Robert Newton â acclaimed actor and patron saint of Talk Like A Pirate Day â who set the fashion for pirate-speak. His portrayal of Long John Silver and Blackbeard in 1950s films set the gold standard for pirate voices on the screen â including the âarrâ.
Together with the skull-and-crossbones logo, this accent built the pirate brand.
The books and movies that launched the pirate brand all those years ago have acted like artificial life support systems for expressions that otherwise would have long bitten dust.
Making many regular appearances on September 19 are expletives like âtimbersâ, âshiver me timbersâ and âsash me timbersâ â all nautical exclamations from the late 18th century.
Timber was a slang term for âwooden legâ (âtimber toeâ meant âman with a wooden legâ). It was also a nautical expression for the pieces of wood making up the ribs or frames of a shipâs hull. The term âshiverâ meant âto splinterâ (by happy coincidence, English has another verb âshiverâ with equally appropriate âquiver, trembleâ senses).
There was undoubtedly a bit of word play going on with these mock oaths â the idea being something like âmay my wooden leg (or ship) fly into small pieces!â. They are modelled along the lines of frightful curses like âGorblimeyâ (a truncated version of âMay God blind meâ) and âDratâ or âRatsâ (innocent sounding expressions until you realise theyâre disguised forms of âGod rot themâ).

Like â(God) strike me deadâ and âblow me downâ, shiver me timbers was rare by the mid 1800s and is never encountered these days â except on September 19.
We see a similar pirate-specific support of nautical terms like âheartyâ and âlubberâ. When pirates say âme heartiesâ, theyâre giving due respect to a person for bravery or other admirable qualities. âHeartyâ was even another word for âsailorâ from the 18th to the early 20th century.
âLubberâ has been around since the 14th century and referred to a clumsy and idle person. In fact, before becoming part of sailor parlance, people spoke scathingly of the âabbey-lubberâ (monks living in idleness or self-indulgence).
And from the 16th to the 19th centuries, we see the âliftingâ hearties speaking of the âleaningâ lubbers, especially those land-lubbers.
Our knowledge of sea-faring lingo comes from early manuals like seamanship writer Samuel Sturmyâs Compleat Mariner (1669). Some of this nautical jargon made it into ordinary language and survived â âby and largeâ, âtaken abackâ, âunderwayâ and âgo by the boardâ.
The so-called golden age of piracy (late 17th and early 18th centuries) happened to coincide with the golden age of travel literature, and it became the fashion of the time for writers to pepper their memoirs and travelogues with nautical words. This was so much the case that philosopher George Campbell described the practice as a âsource of darkness in composingâ.

Early slang dictionaries are another source of âtar phrasesâ, tar being an early appellation for a sailor. Early lexicographer Captain Francis Groseâs Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue groans with 18th-century nautical gems like âshipshapeâ (orderly), âjunkâ (pieces of old rope and, later, âpieces of salted porkâ), and lashings of terms for food and drink â âbelly timberâ, âslush and tackâ (food), âgrub-spoilerâ (cook), âflash the hashâ (to vomit), âgrogâ (rum and water), âsluice the gobâ (to drink) are some of the success stories.
Those who see scruffy slang as a shortcoming of modern times might be surprised to encounter in Groseâs dictionary entries like âVice Admiral of the Narrow Seasâ, which he defines as âa drunken man that pisses under the table into his companionsâ shoesâ.
In fact, many current terms around drunkenness hail from this time: âslewedâ, â(well) splicedâ, âlisting to starboardâ, âthree sheets to the windâ, âleglessâ, âkeel overâ and âguzzle-gutsâ (âone greedy of liquorâ). Even the phrase âname your poisonâ as an invitation to drink was early sailing slang. It seems the expression âdrunk as a sailorâ is well founded.
So go ahead and enjoy International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Itâs the one day when all around the English-speaking world, you can hear âshiver me timbersâ and a flourishing of picaroon âarrrsâ!
And if our short introduction has whet your appetite, check out the talk like a pirate website or use a pirate translator. These âere translatinâ contrivances be fer turninâ decent nglish into the lingo of sea-dogs. At this point weâll sling our hookâŠ
Kate Burridge is Professor of Linguistics at Monash University and Howard Manns is a lecturer in Linguistics at Monash University. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.Â


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