With cat-like tread,
Upon our prey we steal;
In silence dread,
Our cautious way we feel.
No sound at all,
We never speak a word,
A fly’s foot-fall
Would be distinctly heard -
Come, friends, who plough the sea,
Truce to navigation;
Take another station;
Let’s vary piracee
With a little burglaree!Ahoy, mateys! It be that time of year - so let's
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