PIRATES
We cut our sails for the open sea
With a rising tide and a wayard lea
With stiffening breeze coming close behind
Whipping flecks of foam off the dappled brine
As Kingston town slips away from view
Below the ocean drowned in blue-away
The canvas billowed the sheets were tight
We ploughed the waves through day and night
With spirits high and faces bright
crossing the ocean in headlong flight
the compass straight, the quarry known
the grin is wide on a skull and bones
There’s Devon Sam from Plymouth sound
Heard your previous track and had to hear this one. You have a unique and humerous approach to writing. Once again another very entertaining piece of music well done
Nice retro ballad. You must have a lot of fun recording this music! It definitely makes me smile, :o)
Farrell