Life at sea is like a life with bread and soup:
It’s complete, with everything you need.
You haven’t lived until you’ve seen the sunset
Out at sea as the Captain bellows
Out orders to prepare for nightfall as he
Deftly cracks his slender, vicious whip.
We’ve traded poor for rich, innocence for blood;
But being a pirate is so freeing.
It’s a pirate’s life for me, and life is good,
And my mateys are of a good sort.
There’s grog and gold and plenty of adventure;
What more could someone possibly want?
The sunset is dancing on the horizon,
Like my mates and I dance round the ship.
Life is like a dance that can’t be improvised;
You either know the steps or you don’t.
My mateys have my back like I have all theirs;
Captain doesn’t whip me too often.
Privateering is really the perfect life;
I prefer ‘privateer’ to ‘pirate’.
I’ll take ‘pirate’ if there’s enough rum in me;
My mateys know there usually is.
Sea life is adventure at its highest peak;
There’s plundering, thieving, and killing.
There ain’t nothing like a good bottle o’ rum,
As my mates start singing old shanties.
Sleeping in a hammock, swayed by ocean air,
Is the most pleasant sleep you can have.
Every morning is like a sweet, sun-kissed gift;
It’s beautiful and fresh even though
You’re not–actually you’re quite dirty and hot;
Your mates don’t notice ‘cause they are too.
Ah yes, a pirate’s life is a perfect one–
If you can avoid the swift bullets
And cannons, and sharp swords, and little daggers–
Yes, yes, then it’s quite perfect indeed.