by John Masefield
We were schooner-rigged and rakish
with a long and lissome hull,
And we flew the pretty colors
of the crossbones and the skull;
We'd a big black jolly roger
flapping grimly at the fore,
And we sailed the spanish waters
in the happy days of yore.
We'd a long brass gun amidships
like a well-conducted ship,
We had each a brace of pistols
and a cutlass at the hip;
It's a point which tells against us
and a fact to be deplored,
But we chased the goodly merchantmen
and laid their ships aboard.
Then the dead men fouled the scuppers
and the wounded filled the chains,
and the paint-work all was splattered
with other peoples brains.
She was boarded, she was looted
she was scuttled till she sank,
And the pale survivors left us
by the medium of the plank.
Ah! the pig-tailed, quidding pirates
and the pretty pranks we played,
All have since been put a stop to
by the naughty Board of Trade;
The schooners and their merry
crews are laid away to rest,
A little south the sunset in
the Island of the blest.