This bloodthirsty band of pirates now sail the ocean blue
Celebrating their turn of fortune; with rum the favourite brew.
They sprawl about the decks relating tales of past events
And fail to notice the change in the weather; the danger it represents.
From high above the decks; in a nest perched way up high
A shout rings out from the lookout; "Aye, thar is a storm out yonder, aye!!!"
The captain wakes from his slumber and slurs a command to the crew
"Arrr, gerrrrrrup you lot, batten the 'atches - hic - thar'ssss nothin Me can do."
This drunken band of pirates; attempt to scramble to their feet
Deary me, what a sorry sight; their energy becomes deplete.
The pirate up in the crow's nest, as worried as he surely is
Sees a chance, an opportunity, where the treasure might be his.
Sliding down the mast; nearly blown to sea by the wind
Waves crash over the decks; his hands and knees are skinned.
Then a mighty crash, the boom now falls; he rolls across a body well dead
He looks to the sky, sees a funnel coming forth and it fills him now with dread.
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Cool 
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