One thousand six hundred and sixty six
none: a salesman, a noble, or a cook
Macabre swam the sea of ****** Bay
In a fleet, the Dutch, French and Britsh he took

A crimson tide soaked the sand to a stain
Great reefs, he made, floating stench of maim
The more Macabre swam for lust of pain
More life, to the vast ocean floor, he claim

Now, three hundred and twenty three years on
Under a full moon in the depth of night
He, Macabre, still swims a ****** Bay
In search of an undaunted soul to fight.