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Anchors away for predators less the scurvy lot
o six hundred settin' sail the lovers of the land to rot.
Cross bones...vacation, red flag is a murder bath,
the black flag...submit. We can't live like the rest
the seven seas have ruined us export, imports, we implore
to get we thirst a bloody mess. The wenches of Liberia
turned five men into moss the capetown cannibals?
For lunch, ate twelve of us. Contracted out of the Salem Yard
on the worthiest ship afloat plagued with the yellow fever
men are dyin' to fill the note. Fifty five suns to Belguay
half the crew is lost a love cargo boat in Belgota boy's
this the one!
