The midsummer sun beat on our deck
The sea was as hot as a stew.
The lookout he cried from the forepeake above,
"A money order's hove into view"

Turn into the wind, our captain he shouted.
We'll very soon have 'er aboard.
here was steel in his voice, and none of us doubted
we'd soon add her coin to our hoard.

Nelson proclaimed as he died on the deck,
"Kiss me, Hardy", and "Men, do your duty".
I'd done number two, and strode from the head.
and observed this transaction of booty


But the Purser he squinted, as they sometimes do
"I don't like the cut of 'er jib
If I were the captain, tis caution I'd use.
I think that that cheque is a fib.

"Why curse 'er, my purser, You've got it in one!"
Then he blew his nose on his tunic.
That shallow draft soon was ablaze on a beach
We escaped mouthing oaths that were punic

There's a wee bit of risk in every endeavour
the sages will often proclaim
But if pyrates can't trust other folks to be honest,
Then something's dead wrong with the game!