Convict Ship
In and out, round about, the waves hit on the run
In and out, round about, like sex without the fun
From her bow to stern our ancient ship do creak
From her bow to stern our ancient ship do leak
Every day its man the pumps till I'm near undone.
The Captain's mad and the First Mate's insane
I'd not be swingin' from the riggin' if I had a brain
The salt and the sweat stings each eye till its red
If luck hold out, in a year or so, I'll know a dry bed
Salt water, salt water all about, such a dull refrain.
Then up the long ladder and down the short rope
To hell with old
Sure we'll be bloody scuppered, if that doesn't do
And be sent to hell with their red white and blue
For wearin’ of the green, I'm on the slippery slope.
All that's left is dreams and memories of the old sod
Before we was reamed in the rectum by the rigid rod
His Royal Majesty may well rule over the wicked waves
But the bastard will never rule over poor Irish knaves
Twas my luck to steal a horse that was so poorly shod.
We steer for the Great South Land, when the winds do blow
Of my kith and kin on that Emerald Isle, I shall never know
The Red Coats have done for me; they keep me at my post
How my sore eyes long to see the shore, of any bloody coast
Complain' is useless - I see the sea, as I reap what I did sow.
© Rogue
Awarded 10/29/2008
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
View My Guestbook
Sign My Guestbook
