"To the mast nail our flag, it is dark as the grave, Or the death which it bears while it sweeps o’er the wave. Let our deck clear for action, our guns be prepared; Be the boarding-axe sharpened, the scimetar bared; Set the canisters ready, and then bring to me, For the last of my duties, the powder-room key. It shall never be lowered, the black flag we bear; If the sea be denied us, we sweep through the air."