A Frigate Of Fermented Spirits

Raise up the anchors and lower the sails. Seen nothing for days as the horizon prevails. Exotic things found in places untold, we'll take all the treasure and fill up the hold. Deep in Atlantis, stir ghost's of the sea, the ocean's tall toll paid in souls of the weak. The monster's tall tale in which no tongues shall speak. Young sailors and old, mixed reef pass with bone. There lie men into bloom, golden doubloons of the Spanish armada. Not one's caught us yet, the swiftest of ships never sought the sunset. Sailing pass the boundaries in eighty long nights, don't fear for me, I'll be back with mine.