Wrath of the Flying Dutchman

Among the cries of lonesome gull A crude cross-slash, grinning skull Below the tattered crimson sail Those that did weather the fiercest gale Noblemen fearfully bow Seamen kneel before its prow Quiver before the pirate`s might A vision of ivory, dark as night We slowly conquer waves of teal All eyes follow the steady keel The ebony ship, its purpose grim The treasure hoard hidden within Like a glittering blade, swift and sure Cursed to never dock at shore Remembered in forgotten lore Not even the bravest Mortal knave Shall escape the wrath of the grave So we sail forever-more