The crew is about to be assembled for inspection by the captain for the voyage to riches
Pull up a rum keg, and set a-spell ye scallywags, those that plow the sea, and jist plain scurvy dogs!
Come hear the thunder of the 24 pounders, and smell the powder buring in ther flintlocks . . . feel the creakin' deck roll under yer feet and yer cutlass bangin' aginst the back of yer thigh as the prize draws near.
A billow of black smoke and the smell of burnin' blackpowder fill the air as a seasoned crew of salts and swashbucklers storm your way!
I be keepin me eye on ya! Leave me treasure be!
rgggh! Ye be seekin me treasure! Leave it be or ye'll be feedin' the fishes!
Death awaits ye, ya lillie libbered land lubbers!"
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