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Elephants' Dance

de Ye Banished Privateers

The island of tortuga is a haven fer our salty kind,
Where sixteen 'undred harlots can help a mate unwind
And forty odd taverns can quench yer hevy thirst each night,
All thanks to henry morgan, the man fer whom we fight

So join our band of brother and be a lawless buckaneer
Or sail with king charles blessing, as a privateer,
Come spend yer share of loot here, in our dark but friendly port
Don't be a greedy cheap-arse, yer life is far to short.

So hold on yo yer, sabres, ye spaniards ye sailors,
Yer heading fer tortuga and the brethren of the coast.
So hold on to yer pouches, to yer spouses and yer trousers,
Or the whore of henry morgan will lure ye from yer post.

It's a place to make a fortune, on expence of those less fortunate,
A place to loose yer savings, in a single bet;
A place for new beginnings, a place of filth n' self-made men
A place for early ending, at best friends cutlass' end.

The island of tortuga, is a haven fer our salty kind
Where sins fer every pleasure, are eas'ly to be found.
Pick the poison of yer liking and let all other worries be,
Tomorrow we'll go fighting the limeys of the sea!

So hold on yer sabres, ye spaniards ye sailors
Yer heading fer tortuga and the brethren of the coast.
So hold on to yer purses, to yer boots and yer curses,
Or the whores of henry morgan will lure ye from yer post

Or the whores of henry morgan will lure ye from yer post!

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