Kysias, pirate? I think you are wrong.
Don't veil my eyes with your lyrics of song.

Rescuing damsels? Now this I'd believe,
If by rescuing her then some wealth they'd achieve.

It isn't the houses that most pirates plunder.
It's poor fishing vessels that they break asunder.

As chainshot is tearing the rigging above,
The wardiscs are spilling our innocent blood.

The crewmen are dying, I let out a scream.
Please let this just be a terrible dream.

Before I can help it, they've boarded my ship.
My arm is enclosed in his merciless grip.

The fighting is over, but terror persists.
To empty my strongbox the pirate insists.

I've such little money, but they demand spoils.
There isn't much more than the fruits of my toils.

With a poor broken vessel, I row back to shore.
The ring my love gave me, is my ring no more.

Perhaps I will find myself someday with gold.
And buy back that treasure before it is sold.

Now Kysias, please, tell me this isn't you.
A nice, friendly pirate? It just isn't true.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Sarapin, in the year 506 AF.