The fog rolls in from across the water
An army of death step upon the shore
Homes are locked up as tight as a drum
A gathering of souls around the fire
All pray while they sit on the floor
The Evil Warriors go in search for life
Dragging their feet through the sand
With swords gripped at their sides
Working their way up the beach
They look for the village on land
A family sits by the fireplace
Grandfather ready to tell a tale
A story of ships in the night
Of pirates who hunger for riches
Set out with the wind at their sails
The ocean was lined with treasures
Ships heading for places unseen
Some were filled with gold and silver
Others carried precious jewels
All sailing towards a new dream
Scull and cross bones waved in the mist
Waiting to take for their pleasure
Cannons bursting out into the air
With swords flying they tool the ships
And gorged on the fine treasures
Now Grandfather leaned towards the flames
As the children closed in to hear
He whispered how a trap was laid
The pirates would soon be but a few
For the people were tired of running in fear
The trap was set for the evil men
As they were out looking for fun
Many ships sailed up by surprise
And shot them to the bottom of the sea
Till no pirate stood at the rising sun
Now when the fog gets real thick
They come out in search for the captains son
Wanting revenge to quench their thirst
Theres only one victor that still stood
They search the village for the last one
Now Grandfather leaned back in his chair
Listening to the fog roll in
A chill ran up the childrens spine
As sounds of shuffling feet came closer
Metal scrapping was heard in the wind
Grandfather stood and turned towards the door
Slipping on his cloak with sword in hand
He stepped out into the night
There were cries of the children pleading to stay
But he walked on towards the sand
Shouts of a battle drift through the fog
Curses were heard throughout the night
While the village all waited in fear
They prayed for the captains soul
Wishing for the fog to roll out of sight
Silence...
Cheers burst through the mist
As cries of anguish died
The fog began to drift out to sea
With no signs of Grandfather in sight
The only sounds were from the children who cried
