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When the ocean’s calm and shiny it be joyous to behold
When the spyglass sights Port Royal there be good rum to be sold
When a pirate holds the spyglass and his ship be filled of gold
Might he take a wife and buy some rum and stay there till he’s old

But a pirate ain’t for settling down with England on his tail
Lest the King’s own privateers be under yonder sail
So it’s keep a girl in every port who’s sweet on contraband
And if she be a willing one he needs no motherland

I heard the word that some day men like me would be but scum
Until that day I think I’ll have me lots and lots of fun
And if I find meself a wife before that time has come
I knows it isn’t noble… but I’d like a pretty one

When one of them there ladies took a fancy to me loot
She’d tucked away a gem or two inside her dainty boot
I took her to the gangplank saying just get off me boat
I said yer quite a buxom wench, I think ye’ll likely float

But I gave her me blessing to gaze up at me and gloat
Should I be taken by some privateers who take me boat
I’ll look her in the eye remembrin what’s beneath her frock
When me neck is in a loop of rope at Execution Dock

But I ain’t been taken yet and it be quite a certain bet
Blighty says I’m twice as bad as pirates ever get
Though a privateer was waiting for me as I came ashore 
And his musket made a hole in me where no hole was before

He couldn’t know the hole that he had shot into my leg 
Was in the leg surrendered to a wayward powder keg
A musket offers just one shot in spite of shooter’s wishes
And so there be a privateer a swimming with the fishes

One shot muskets ain’t that good for shooting from the hip
So I loaded up me schooner with the booty from his ship
And we made the crew an offer that they never would refuse
Jump to join your cap’n or we’ll use your skin for shoes

Well they leapt into the ocean and I couldn't help but laugh
They were safer in that ‘deep’ blue sea than in a metal bath
We sailed into a sunset knowing soon they’d understand
That if they put their boots down then their feet would touch the sand

Should me lungs fill up with briny as I make me last descent
Me final words will never be a pirate’s sad lament
All me deeds were deeded with the very best intent
Some might say, ‘Old Fungus Face was truly Heaven sent.”

I’m a scoundrel and a robber and I take the British coin
I stand accused of taking all the gold I can purloin 
I hold my hands up for that is a truth I can’t dispute
I liberate the wealth of Kings and that I don’t refute

They call it tax, but here’s the facts; they milk the nation dry
And someone has to stop them and it seems that man is I
So I roam the seas to seek the nation’s shilling and its gold
To distribute among the poor, the feeble and the old 

But let me share the secret held by every pirate, feared
Don’t ye rob yer King before ye’ve growed a massive beard
And when yer done with pirating and need to pack it in
Take yer cutthroat razor and shave off that bushy chin

Then no-one’s gonna know ya face nor put ye in your place
But when the robbin’s done with and ya seek a calmer pace
’member this if ye don’t ’member any word I said
Go live yer decent life… 
but keep yer cutlass ’neath yer bed.
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