Additional information
Weight | 1 oz |
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$27.00
The boardinghouse masters came aboard in a trice
A shouting and a promising all that was nice
Til one old crib took a liking to me
Says he you’re a fool, lad, to follow the sea
And it’s row, row bullies row
Says he there’s a job as is waiting for you
With lashings of liquor and beggar-all to do
Says he what you say lad, will you? – or two?
Says I you old bastard, I’m damned if I do
And it’s row, row bullies row
But the best of intentions they never goes far
After thirty two days at the door of the bar
I tossed off me liquor and what do you think
That rotten old bastard had doctored me drink
And it’s row, row bullies row
Next I remember I woke in the morn
On a the three skysail yarder bound south round Cape Horn
With an old set of oilskins and two pair of socks
And an IOU nailed to the lid of my box
And it’s row, row bullies row
Honeyed rum, a whiff of almond, and a hint of something suspiciously soporific.
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