In a dim-lit bunker, shadows sway,
Three unlikely souls found their way.
A DJ spun records, beats in the air,
A pirate with an eyepatch, wild and rare.
And there, in the corner, a pot of Marmite,
Its gooey secrets hidden from sight.
The DJ scratched vinyl, the pirate danced,
While Marmite hummed tunes, entranced.
“Arr, matey!” cried the pirate, grog in hand,
“Let’s toast to this underground wonderland!”
The DJ nodded, headphones snug on his head,
As Marmite bubbled, its flavor unsaid.
Together they swayed, an odd trio indeed,
Lost in the rhythm, fulfilling a need.
For in that bunker’s heart, magic unfurled,
DJ, pirate, and Marmite—worlds twirled.