Текст: Swashbuckle. Back To The Noose. Scurvy Back.

The parchment turns as the quest begins. Brothers in arms with the blood of sin.
Minds ingrained upon the route, each and all our black hearts devout.
Hung or shot, stabbed or drowned. These pleasures make our world go 'round.
From behind a veil of power and pride we sat, enthroned amongst the slain.
And with the candor of unsung songs we laughed at all our shameless gains.
The hell we raised upon the seas. Cause of death and fear on the main.
Survived damnation and the tests of time. Now we're back for blood again!
Tempted by a nameless prize, and splendid riches of unspeakable size.
The feeling that grows with each the passing tides. To pilfer and plunder the guilt aside.
Back for the attack. To bring scurvy back! Your village, we'll ransack. All the loot that we'll pack.
Always ready for the attack. We're bringing scurvy back! You'll have no time to flee. There's only death at sea.
Fearing our attack. We're bringing scurvy back! Raising our ales tonight in honour of our fight.
Drink 'til we attack. We're bringing scurvy back! We'll thrash until we die!
'Til our ships burn to the sky! Killing for the attack. We're bringing scurvy back!