On the day when the storm was drawing near
There was a crew of dirty swarthy buccaneers
One hundred paces south towards the tallest standing tree
Six feet underground lies the treasure of the queen

bolt of lightning split the mast and dropped the sail
The heavens split in twain and down came hail
What manner of force has caused this, are we heathens bound for [bad word] 
Or are we but lost souls in the belly of the whale?

We ride, skysail heads into the wind
Avast all dread, for we be not who've sinned
Forty-two men [bad word] atop a gangplank
Let it not be our hearts that fall to sea

The captain caught the eye of something worse
The seas, they foamed, and raves, and spat, and cursed
terrible creature rose from the black heart of the waves
Churning, burning, yearning to drag us into our graves

The darkness swallowed all that we could see
Surely this must be some terrible dream
Gone are the skies above us. Gone are the winds and rain
Gone is all our glory, all our lust, and all our pain

We ride, skysail heads into the wind
Avast all dread, for we be not who've sinned
Forty-two men [bad word] atop a gangplank
Let it not be our hearts that fall to sea

On the day when the storm was drawing near
There lay a crew of dirty swarthy buccaneers
One hundred paces south towards the tallest standing tree
Six feet underground with naught but tales of all their deeds

We ride, skysail heads into the wind
Avast all dread, for we be not who've sinned
Forty-two men [bad word] atop a gangplank
Let it not be our hearts that fall to sea

We ride, skysail heads into the wind
Avast all dread, for we be not who've sinned
Forty-two men [bad word] atop a gangplank
Let it not be our hearts that fall to sea