Blackbeard

Sharpen your cutlass my hearties,we be raping, robbing and oring and with luck be stinking rich the morrow.

I'm longing for my bark, the tallest of the ships,
Queen of the seven seas, a proud and flippant lass.
I'm longing for the waves, and for my ruthless mates,
Whose greedy hands still wet with spanish blood
Once delved into a chest, a king's load of dubloons,
The harvest of the Andes, an Inca's wealth of gold..
But that is all the past and present days are cold.
Yet in young hearts forever lives the Piracy of old.

Read John Masefield, one of my favourites. Aye!