On every night, in every bar, in every port there by,
A sailor'll be sittin' there, tellin' tales of the sea.
And all the folks'll gather round, an' listen to 'im tell,
Of what 'e's done, and what 'e's seen, an' why he's bound fer hell.
He'll tell 'em 'bout the love 'e had, 'is treasures lost an' found,
He'll tell 'em 'bout the folks 'e knew, the shipmates 'e's seen drowned,
He'll swig some rum, t' wet 'is throat, an' mebbe call fer more,
An' then 'e'll curse 'is rotten luck, what's trapped 'im on the shore.
'e'll tell a thousand stories, some what's old and some what's new,
An' if ye finds an honest lad, jus' mebbe some that's true,
But mateys, I been travellin' far, t' every port o' call,
And once ye've heard an' ol' sea tale, ye've damn near heard 'em all.
~ Shelly Maroon ~