A ghost of a moon, not shiny or clear
Hid in the clouds from the old buccaneer.
She watched as he paced the deck of the ship
His eyes to the floor, his hands on his hips,
As loads of obscenities poured from his lips

Most of his crew had rowed to the shore
And were drinking and whoring at the Wild Boar.
Some mutinous deckhands were held in the hold,
Chained to the wall in the dark and the cold
Along with the contraband rum and the gold.

Up in the crows nest the lookout was sleeping.
Prisoners were wailing and timbers were creaking.
The first mate had supervised swabbing the decks,
Cleaning the cannons and other projects.
The captain still paced looking really perplexed.

As the watery moon just melted from sight
The ship became cloaked in the blackness of night.
The flash of the cutlass could barely be seen
As it punctured his flesh and ruptured his spleen.
The kings men advanced like a well oiled machine.

They slaughtered the prisoners down in the hold,
Commandeered the ship, the weapons and gold,
Threw the food overboard and the rum they all drank
Forced the first mate the length of the plank.
Then shouted and jeered as the poor bugger sank.

They tore down the flag, the skull and crossbones
Went into the locker of old Davy Jones.
They ignited the gunpowder, caused an explosion
Sending the ship to the depths of the ocean.
It all seemed to be in the slowest of motion.

The pirates all sated had left the wild boar.
They heard the explosion and that's when they saw
The carnage inflicted by the kings men.
They swore that together they would seek revenge
And the loss of their treasure would then be avenged.