A/N: Ok, I don't own this song or PotC and it characters, that honor goes to Hans Zimmer and Gore Verbinski...This is a slight songfic on the thoughts of the young boy before his death at the gallos. I changed up the way they sung the song so it could be a songfic, and I guessed on his age because I was in a hurry and I really wanted to write this. I know I can do whatever I want to it because I ain't trying to make a profit, this is only an idea of what could have been in the boy's head. Enjoy this sad songfic. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Hoist the Colours: Our Song

Never had I been faced with this punishment in my life. Always had I been a good person, never harming nor pillaging people and towns, only a mere helper to those who call themselves Pirates, never a bad person. I was only a boy of thirteen when the day came where gallos called my name with its mocking creaks and moans, the noose before me, swinging slightly and teasingly from the salty wind that blew. I glared upon it and could not remember a time where I felt so apart from myself, as a ghost. With the song to be sung resonating in my heart and as the tears blurred my vision, I began to sing our sacred song aloud, for all to hear, proud and true.

Yo, ho, haul together,
hoist the Colours high.
Heave ho,
thieves and beggars,
never shall we die.

The king and his men
stole the queen from her bed
and bound her in her Bones.
The seas be ours
and by the powers
where we will we'll roam.

With sorrow soaked tears falling aimlessly to the worn wood under my feet, a thick man walked from his post at the gallos with an empty rum barrel in his grasp, advancing towards me as I sang the prayer-like song that sealed my pride for what I've done over the years. All with good intentions, never to harm, only to aide those who sail reaches of the oceans was my purpose and I am bound to my falsely accused sin of piracy in the eyes of the British government. The man placed the barrel before me and seized me, pulling me up and onto it. The tears came faster but the song pursued, on and on as the others joined in, knowing we'd face our judgment soon.

Yo, ho, haul together,
hoist the Colours high.
Heave ho,
thieves and beggars,
never shall we die.

Some men have died
and some are alive
and others sail on the sea
– with the keys to the cage…
and the Devil to pay
we lay to Fiddler's Green!

The taunting noose was slipped over my head and became a collar of death as it was tightened to size my neck. I glanced at the others, those who will follow us, and the ones who've passed beyond our world. I couldn't help but imagine the new life beyond. Would I be cast into the fires of the underworld because of a sin I had never trully committed? Will I go on to the Kingdom of Heaven and live in peace and serenity from my innocence and youth? No answer came to be, all that could come to mind was our song and the longer we sung, the closer our demise crept towards us with silent feet and its merciless way. We sang on.

The bell has been raised
from it's watery grave…
Do you hear it's sepulchral tone?
We are a call to all,
pay head the squall
and turn your sail toward home!

Yo, ho, haul together,
hoist the Colours high…
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
never shall we die.

The moment our singing subsided, the lever was pulled and the tears that had fallen from me dripped and rolled downward as if leading the barrel and my body threw the open floor. The darkness soon followed and so did the silence but the song will still rang on. And as the others filled our places, they too sang the song of their fate, forever it will be remembered, and forever will it sound. Time can not measure its worth to us. It will be ours to sing, after we are gone, no matter where we are. Our song, our voices, and our prayers raise ever higher as our bodies fall down to our death.

The End.