|
'Twas quite the inky black night |
|
All the weather vanes were turning |
|
And the constable was burning out his light |
|
When low our anchors went down, barnacle bound |
|
The men were up and churning |
|
Yes, and soon the square was burning to the ground |
|
And oh the flames were as gold |
|
I scowl at the angry moon |
|
I am sick on myself |
|
I'm a bumWhat have |
|
I becomeA drunken maroon run aground |
|
In this rotten town |
|
It's been a fortnight or two |
|
The mutineers were plotting against the captain as |
|
I'm rotting in the goo |
|
The constable was set to drown while the shabby scabs that went to town were reconnoitering with blades and gun |
|
But the ale had started spilling |
|
Yes, and soon the crew was killing everyone |
|
And all the streets burned with gold, |
|
But all my bones were so cold |
|
I scowl at the angry moon |
|
I am sick on myself |
|
I'm a bumWhat have |
|
I becomeA drunken maroon run aground |
|
In this rotten town |
|
I still walk down the harbor to the tavern on the squareand heard a raucous ruckus as it rangfrom some foul inebriatessome men i used to call my mateswere lost in song and this is what they sangthey sang"Hey, hi, yo, ho! O'er the Atlantic we goDrinking 'till we all get sickAnd coming up with limericksBut we never quite remember how they end" |
|
I can see my childhood home |
|
I think of my dear old mum |
|
What have |
|
I becomeI scowl at the angry moon |
|
I am sick on myself |
|
I'm a bumWhat have |
|
I becomeA drunken maroon run aground |
|
In this rotten town (I scowl at the angry moon) |
|
I am sick on myself |
|
I'm a bumWhat have |
|
I becomeA drunken maroon run aground |
|
In this rotten town (I scowl at the angry moon) |
|
I am sick in a barrel of rum |
|
What have |
|
I becomeA drunken maroon run aground |
|
In this rotten town (In this rotten) |
|
In this rotten, |
|
In this rotten |
|
Town! |
