Deadlights fastened, pouches empty,
Brace yourselves were heading out
Show a leg to the caulk stained sentry
Wet the sails the boom's about
Set the course for Mayaguana.
A Plate fleet's moving cross the straight
'Scudos coined in Old Milano
Pedro's cog just took the bait
Chase is on in shallow waters.
Swivels glowing through the smoke
"Tis might be an even slaughter
Took a volley through the oak
Bring a spring upon her cable
Hunter now becomes the prey
Broadsides roar with cannons able
Hooks will take us to the fray.
No quarter, No parley,
No pay without a prey.
Fresh water, fresh barley, fine rations to last the day.
No quarter, No parley.
Maynard's sizing up our chains.
Good sailors, dry gnarly.
End their days in a rusty cage.
Scuppers laying low with silver, none but
Dead men tell no tales
Charon may their souls deliver, as we cover up our trail
No more rest on easy booties
Them old days be now long gone
The hangman waits to do his duty
Sail again by the rise of dawn
Fill them seams with tar-soaked oakum
Fish the mast to make her hold
Tie and hoist the leadswing's scrotum
Oh, Hornswogglers don't grow old
Hogsheads full of sailors folly
Salmagundi and sawbone's stew
Crimp some Knaves from the house of Mollies.
At light of dawn head out anew.
No quarter, No parley,
No pay without a prey.
Fresh water, fresh barley, fine rations to last the day.
No quarter, No parley,
Maynard's sizing up our chains.
Good sailors, dry gnarly,
End their days in a rusty cage.