Cut, cut away. Let the axes fly Let a loose them ropes and everything dry Leave the scars of the land far away ashore Let the strumpets cry like the waves will roar
Let the pall dispurse. Let them see our stern Pray we nay be moored, pray our names be earned Let our bildge grow damp, let our futtocks crack May our bows be strong, and the wind at our back.
Lucky fools! Hoist up them colors!! Lucky fools! Hoist up them colors!!
Bring the anchor up, up, let the sails roll down Let them rats grow old, may we hang on drown Let the swell grow high. Nay we stillness feel Let the fathoms wail down below our keel
Set! set a sail. Let the land landlubbers stay, Leave this cradle of dirt to the ocean's spray Let the skies and seas be our only friends Let our journey start, long before it ends!
Lucky fools! Hoist up them colors!! Lucky fools! Hoist up them colors!!
Take the fates... back to our hands! back to our hands! Take the fates... back to our hands! back to our hands!