On a ship in Caribbean waters,
with a crew of otters.
An old turtle on the steering wheel,
fast and furious with its saber steel.

A fishbone on black flag,
is their pirate tag.
Feared within the seven seas,
any reasonable ship flees.

Some say from the otters no one can hide,
they have a pact with the other side.
Black and dark Voodoo, and rum,
wooden masks and a rhytmic drum.

As fearsome those stories sound,
one thing on the sea can be found,
that is a threat to the otters as well,
they fear it more than hell,

the tales of the pie rats,
the strikers of the seven black cats,
the royal mouse kin sailors,
the sublime justicars and jailors.

Perfectly ironed uniform,
red and white, the tag a unicorn.
The sign of royalty they sail for,
but they were not just decor.

Canons, pistols and saber fight,
the pie rats port folio bright.
Excellent bakers in addition,
to celebrate every mission.

As alternative to brutality,
a chance to get free,
the pie rats made baker duels,
more valuable than jewels,

Of such magnificent taste,
and nothing ever goes to waste.
Served with very british tea,
nothing spilled even in stormy sea.

Such noblesse and brilliance,
against the pie rats no one has a chance.
The sweet revenge of the crown,
and in habor the best baker in town.