| Yon’s my privateer
|
| See how trim she lies
|
| To every man a lucky hand
|
| And every man a prize
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| I live to ride the ocean
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| The mighty world around
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| To take a little plunder
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| And to hear the cannon sound
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| To lay with pretty women
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| To drink Madeira wine
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| To hear the rollers thunder
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| On a shore that isn’t mine
|
| Privateering we will go
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| Privateering, yo ho ho ho
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| Privateering we will go
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| Yo ho ho, yo ho ho
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| The people on your man o' war
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| Are treated worse than scum
|
| I’m no flogging captain
|
| And by God I’ve sailed with some
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| Come with me to Barbary
|
| We’ll ply there up and down
|
| Not quite exactly
|
| In the service of the Crown
|
| To lay with pretty women
|
| To drink Madeira wine
|
| To hear the rollers thunder
|
| On a shore that isn’t mine
|
| Look’ee there’s my privateer
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| She’s small but she can sting
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| Licensed to take prizes
|
| With a letter from the King
|
| I love the streets and taverns
|
| Of a pretty foreign town
|
| Tip my hat to the dark-eyed ladies
|
| As we sally up and down
|
| To lay with pretty women
|
| To drink Madeira wine
|
| To hear the rollers thunder
|
| On a shore that isn’t mine
|
| Britannia needs her privateers
|
| Each time she goes to war
|
| Death to all her enemies
|
| Though prizes matter more
|
| Come with me to Barbary
|
| We’ll ply there up and down
|
| Not quite exactly
|
| In the service of the Crown
|
| To lay with pretty women
|
| To drink Madeira wine
|
| To hear the rollers thunder
|
| On a shore that isn’t mine |