DOTLAN EveMaps

BURN THE JOLLY ROGER

To the mast - burn their flag! - it is dark as the hearse
And the death which it bears as it sweeps through the 'verse;
Let our decks clear for action, our guns be prepared;
Be the warp scramblers honed, and the stasis webs bared:
Set the canisters ready, and then bring to me,
for the last of my duties, the booster can key.

It will burn where we find it, the black flag - rough shod;
Their escape we'll deny them, we'll take every pod.
Unshared have they left their last victory's prey;
It is ours to return it, and theirs to obey:
There are shawls that might suit a Amarr's white neck,
and pearls that are fair as the arms they did deck.

There are flasks which, unseal them, the air will disclose
Diametta's fair summers, the home of the rose.
I claim not a portion: I ask but as mine
'tis to drink to a victory - the death of a swine.
Some fight, 'tis for riches - some fight, but for greed:
The first we despise, and the last we make bleed.

We fight, 'tis for justice! We love to see flow,
at the end of our weapons, the ships of our foe.
We strike for the memory of long-vanished years;
We only shed blood where another sheds tears,
We come, as the lightning comes, swift from above,
through the Pirates we loathe, to the battle we love.