'Twas five past the turn on a ghost's annum hand
And nineteen o' September were clawin' from East
When a freebooter spirit plundered me lub o' the land
And I traded all in for a jolly sea-faring beast.
With a mess o' picaroons, blackjack to the sky,
A wannion for adventure and barrels o' grog filled high,
Turned dungbie to the shore, my furner an' me.
Jettisoned the land and chose a seven course meal of seas.
Weren't long afore we opened our account,
Raping and pillaging and burning villages.
Looting ourselves a gigantic amount.
'Til amongst our booty we did discover
A piece of a map and then another.
A red X marked the dream our minds pondered
And so it set the path our ship wandered.
Upon that we were seekin', the new-found greed we'd adopted
Homed like it were a beacon, and so our scuttlebutt we concocted
Of a sheltered cove and an island far off Barbados
And nineteen paces abaft a rotten tree,
Three feet o' sand and then a chest packed thick with crusadoes.
Nothin' to belay me triu