Alert the watch all hands all hands on deck
Aloft and set the storm sails, make them fast,
Then rig the ratlines tight from stem to stern
The seas are up we're heading for a blast.
Unfast the boats and toss them to the storm
The dervish wind will crush them into splints,
Then lash the forty cannon to the deck
No man will rest so each surpass their stints.
You surgeon's boys now to your station go
Make keen each edge and mark your master well,
If God has grace to gift to you the dawn
You will no longer fear the wrath of hell.
There is no time to pray no place for fear
No tine to ponder on the hours ahead,
Now everyman must make his peace alone
I fear that fate has marked us living dead.
Copyright© Alan Gilbert 2011.