Like a ghost on the wind He comes from the sea, And trembles the foe Like a storm on the lee. With swashbuckling swagger And a Jolly Roger laugh, He flies the black flag On a whalebone staff. He has a black-patched eye And a ring in his ear, And on his wind-burned face, A crusty-grizzled beard. With a bone-cold glare And a sneer on his lip, He has a cannon by his side And a cutlass in his grip. With a thunderous blast From his cannon’s might, He shivers the strong And cripples their fight. He takes what he’s lost And turns it to gold, For He’s crafty and shrewd And He’s fearless and bold. He’s dashing and daring, A fierce buccaneer, For the sight of his plunder Pales many with fear. From East Carolina Victories are told Of the Spirit of the Pirate And his purple and gold!
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