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  Row Bullies Row Perfume Oil

  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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  Port-Au-Prince Perfume Oil

  Dark, decadent and incomparably exotic: the rich scent of buttered rum flavored with almond, bay, clove and sassafras.

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  Grog Perfume Oil

  Arrr! Avast ye, matey! This be the scent of pirate rum!

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  Midnight Marzipan Perfume Oil

  A Winter Solstice gourmand: a ground almond snowpack glistening under a chilly scattering of sugar-bright stars, standing out against a night sky of the darkest cacao.

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