7/23/2019 Cutlasses Drawn Copy

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Cutlasses drawn, by the crack of dawn

And the crack of the guns below

The young and wise, their screams and their cries

Dying by fellow and foe

From bow to stern, the sails smoke and burn

Defeated, to see it is plain.

To our Sons and our Fathers, their wives and their daughters.

hom they!ll never see again.

"istol!s bla#e like lightning,

in the ha#e of the blood soaked room.

The thunder claps to the fighting,the rhythm to our song of doom.