| The ship of fools is coming in | |
| Take me off i've got to eat | |
| Same old stories same old thing | |
| Letting out and pulling in | |
| Mister, there's a caravan parked out back | |
| Restless hoping for a christian rider | |
| The black book, a grappling hook | |
| A hangman's noose on a burnt out tree | |
| Guess we must be getting close to tombstone | |
| The last time we had eaten | |
| Was when the flies were going for free | |
| You could count the hardships by the open doors | |
| But sandwiched in between | |
| Were the fishermen who still | |
| Wished they could sail from tenessee to arizona | |
| So hold on, won't be long | |
| The call is on the line | |
| Hold on, sister's gone | |
| South to give the sign | |
| We picked up dracula in memphis | |
| It was just about the break of day | |
| And then hastily prayed for out souls to be saved | |
| There was something in the air that made us kind of weary | |
| By the time we got to swansea it was getting dark | |
| Tumble, jungles, bugles and the prize | |
| The tides turned west at amerforth | |
| As if they didn't know what to do | |
| But garnant stood its ground and asked for more | |
| All the people seemed quite glad to see us | |
| Shaking hands and smiling like the clock | |
| Well we gave them all the message then | |
| That the ship of fools was in | |
| Make sure they get home for christmas | |
| So hold on, won't be long | |
| The call is on the line | |
| So hold on, sister's gone | |
| South to give the sign |