Rum (English)

In Jamaica’s tropic blaze,
Where we the Jolly Roger raise,
There you shine like amber clear.
On Tortuga’s pale-white beach,
Far away from Britain’s reach,
There you are to drown our fear.

Made from Cuba’s sugarcane,
To lift the spirit, numb the brain,
In shady cellars you’re produced.
Weathered smugglers, with devotion,
Carry you across the ocean
And in battle you are used.

We will drink you before boarding,
When we’re our booty hoarding
And to free us from our glum.
Warm or cold, at sea, on dock,
Whether moonshine or as grog,
Just give me a bottle rum!