Jolie Rouge'

With Acre now seized by Saladin's hand, no knights upon the Holy Land,

Bold Falcon leads a corsair band to thwart aside the Sultan's plan.

Giant ships guided by Templar might, festoon an awful flag of black,

Known by all as Gonfalon Beauceant, sure sign they cold fear do lack.

Look to a skull of ancient Gagatha, carried on mast for passion's sake.

Merchants and Arabs do quickly row from pirates these fine knights do make.

But terror and dauntless courage hold, these fine ships are put to shame,

By the fleet of Maltese Corsairs bold, whose dread flag Saint John proclaim.

On swift ships with sail cut trapezoid, do fierce banner bright red display.

No quarter give, nor prisoner bind, cries out the flag called the Jolie Rouge'

 For they carry the secret of awesome powers, a fire that belches across the sea. Spawn of death from a siphon of bronze, ransom or die their only plea.

At helm, a priest dressed all in black, not guided much by golden wealth.

At the ropes Syrian sailors dark, sail a thousand years of stealth.

At the oars are sea-wolf bandits from far northern icy sea.

Together they tack unto the winds and hopeless merchants cannot flee.

They do not need to grapple close, nor arm with axe or blade,

For even water will not quench this fire that spreads on deck and wave.

For corsairs the black gives strength of iron to meet a certain death,

With bones from the Temple of Solomon a source of Templar faith.

But for Turks 'tis the red they flee, or meet a Hell born fate.

They are the curse of the Inland Sea, only destruction in their wake.

The fluttering flag of the Jolie Rouge' does warn of a hungry flame.

But notice sure the cross of white, on both flags it is the same.

Kinjal of Moravia