The Sovereign of the Sand

(Verse 1)
The fog is a shroud on the black of the bay,
The Morning Star shudders and founders away.
The hunter is coming, with sails like a ghost,
Far from the light of the comforting coast.
(Chorus)
Oh, weep for the timber, and weep for the men,
The sun will not rise on the Morning again.
The black flag is rising, the shadow is near,
The ocean is drowning in nothing but fear.
(Verse 2)
The master is praying, the gunner is cold,
There’s no use for silver or chests full of gold.
The Vulture is closing, she breathes in our wake,
And every soul trembles for what she will take.
(Chorus)
Oh, weep for the timber, and weep for the men,
The sun will not rise on the Morning again.
The black flag is rising, the shadow is near,
The ocean is drowning in nothing but fear.
(Verse 3)
The grappling hooks bite like a wolf in the dark,
The cannons are silent, they’ve hit every mark.
No mercy is spoken, no quarter is shown,
As we sink to the valley of coral and bone.
(Outro)
Down in the hollow,
Down in the deep,
The hunter is gone,
And the sailors all sleep Sand

Tragic 19th-century sea shanty, minor key, a cappella with heavy foot stomps, echoey tavern hall acoustics.