The Pirates

To the restless main, we'll bend our sails, A desp'rate trade to try, Nor dread the howling, northern gales, Or low'ring of the sky; Since there's no living here on land, Let's scow'r the bounteous sea, On merchant fair, or contraband, We'll practice Piracy.

On shore some Pirates thieve apace, From precept ev'ry day, To plunder there is no disgrace, When once you've learnt the way; Of tythes, the parson, trims the farm, Prompt by his rev'rend plea, Then tell me lads, where is the harm; In water Piracy.

Regraters and forestallers too, Accumulate their store, The world must own this sentence true, They peculate the poor; The lawyer, is a name I hate, And all men will agree, They often lop a man's estate, What's that, but Piracy.

Then who'd be squeamish, since our lives Are all we have to lose, Each man gets bolder as he thrives, And wealth does bliss diffuse; The rogue that's rich ne'er cares a jot, Shou'd he much censur'd be, For 'tis, alas, each great man's lot To practice Piracy.