A cry from the crows nest, a nerve tingling shout,
with groaning of her timbers the ship was put about.
The standard was raised to the beating of the drum,
drawing of a cutlass, reflects the early dawning sun
There will be no respite until this day is won,
so roll out the cannon,there's killin to be done.
Put your backs into it before our fate is cast,
load shot and ball the enemy is closing fast.
The uneasy crew wait,for what has to be said,
with dark clouds of thunder gathering over head.
The gap is very narrow a broadside is the fear
prayers are quickly whispered for those very dear.
Steady on there, you've been through this before,
look out for chain shot, its' a Frenchie man 'o war.
Give em hell lads may God be on our side,
"Open fire lads! Lets die with dignity and pride."
The cannon roar is deafening,smoke stings our eyes,
our ear drums are bursting as death rides the skies.
The man'o war shudders, her main mast begins to fall,
her hull splits wide open with weight of many a ball.
A second before she was hit, her cannons belched a reply,
we can only cower, knowing some of us were about to die,
Swirling smoke,screams for help, bodies blown to hell,
wounded men, dead men left just where they fell.
Again we roll out the cannon, our time is running out,
"Make this count lads!" Is our Captains final shout.
Before we have time to fire, the sea swamps the ship,
she gently keels over, beneath the waves we slip.