Текст: Roger Clyne & The Peacemakers. Ándale!.

Hoist your black flag, your raven's wing

You're brimmin' poetry, spill it and sing it

Your sword is sharp, sugar, pull it and swing it now

Andale!



You can wear that gag if that's your choice

But your thoughts want wings, now give 'em a voice

Making your peace means making some noise now

Andale!



Every crooked man, every crooked mile

Every crooked back of the rank and file

Same flood force

Same blood course

Same muddy source

As the crooked waters of the crooked Nile

And we come to plunder the day

We give all our takings away

Pulling off the veil the grass is pushing through the clay

Andale!



There in the wake of our daily grind

Beware the black ship creeping up from behind

Let's have a nice trip 'cause you know she's gonna find us

Andale!



Something there is doesn't love a wall

Heavy thing, that cannonball

Choose to rise, don't wait for the fall

Andale!



For every rusty bell that rings

For calloused hands and tattered wings

The butcher, baker, candlestick maker

Of thee I sing?

Andale!