The island of Tortuga is a haven fer our salty kind,
where sixteen 'undred harlots can help a mate unwind.
And forty odd taverns can quench yer hevy thirst each night,

all thanks to Henry Morgan, the man fer whom we fight.

So join our band of brothers and be a lawless buckaneer,

or sail with king Charles' blessing, as a privateer.
Then, come spend yer share of loot here, in our dark but friendly port
Don't be a greedy cheap-arse, yer life is far to short.


So hold on to yer sabres, ye spaniards ye sailors,
Yer heading fer Tortuga and the Brethren of the Coast.

So hold on to yer pouches, to yer spouses and yer trousers,
Or the !@^%s of Henry Morgan will lure ye from yer post


Its a place to make a fortune, on expence of those less fortunate,
a place to loose yer savings, in a single bet.
A place for new beginnings, a place of filth n' self-made men

a place for early endings, at best friends cutlass' end.

The Island of Tortuga, is a haven fer our salty kind,

Where sins few every pleasure, are eas'ly to be found.
Pick the poison of yer liking, and let all other worries be,
tomorrow well go fighting, the Limeys on the sea


So hold on to yer sabres, ye spaniards ye sailors,
Yer heading fer Tortuga and the Brethren of the Coast.

So hold on to yer purses, to yer boots and yer curses,
Or the !@^%s of Henry Morgan will lure ye from yer post