Though my voice is rough—oh! do not start,
For true and soft is the Pirate’s heart.
Thy home shall be on some fairy land,
And thou wilt be Queen of the Pirate’s band.
Come, love, come, &c.
Come, love, come—ah! why that stern brow—
She smiles, who so happy as the pirate now.
My arms will bear thee to “that thing of life,”
And this night thou must be the Pirate’s Wife.