Oh, have ye heard of Tentacly Tim,
The beast with a laugh that’s ever so grim?
From the depths he rises, a sailor's plight,
With eight long arms, and a thirst for fright!

Tentacly Tim, oh, Tentacly Tim,
He’ll pull ye down for a midnight swim!
Laugh or cry, it’s all the same,
For he plays his victims like a sailor’s game!

He’s got a belly as big as a whale,
And eyes like lanterns, ghostly pale!
When his tentacles slap, you’ll know it’s true,
No ship’s too sturdy for his wrath to undo!

Tentacly Tim, oh, Tentacly Tim,
He’ll pull ye down for a midnight swim!
Laugh or cry, it’s all the same,
For he plays his victims like a sailor’s game!

One sailor tried to outwit the brute,
With a barrel of rum and a sharp pursuit.
But Tim just chuckled, his voice so low,
“Yer rum’s my drink, now down ye go!”

Tentacly Tim, oh, Tentacly Tim,
He’ll pull ye down for a midnight swim!
Laugh or cry, it’s all the same,
For he plays his victims like a sailor’s game!

Now sailors beware, when the moonlight’s dim,
And the waters are calm, beware of him.
For Tentacly Tim lurks near and far,
Leaving broken vessels and tales bizarre!

“Yo-ho-ho,” he sings with glee,
“I’m the terror king of the briny sea!
Ye can’t outrun, ye can’t outfight,
For I’ll feast on yer ship by the pale moonlight!”

So raise yer glass to the beast so grim,
And pray you don’t meet Tentacly Tim.
For sailors' tales may fade with time,
But Tim’s still lurking, in his prime!