| I was sitting in an old-school pub
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| My memories and me
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| A lot of drinks, a lot of songs
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| The next round was for free
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| A man was sitting next to me
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| His hair was long and grey
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| He’d lost one eye
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| One wodden leg and he had much to say
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| He smoked a lot of cigarrettes
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| His voice was rough and deep
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| So many scars upon his face
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| His skin was thick and weak
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| He was the old buccaneer and he said:
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| «My friend, come on over, lend an ear»
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| He was the old buccaneer
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| My friend, come on over, lend an ear
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| He told me stories 'bout his life
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| So many fights and girls
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| So many kisses
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| So much booze and so much gold and pearls
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| He looked upon a yellowed map
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| His fingers on a place
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| He said: «This is my gift to you»
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| And looked into my face
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| He was the old buccaneer and he said:
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| «My friend, come on over, lend an ear»
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| He was the old buccaneer
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| My friend, come on over, lend an ear
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| So we went on
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| The whole night through
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| We drank from dusk till dawn
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| As I woke up
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| The sky went blue
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| The grey old man was gone
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| I lay beside the kitchen door
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| My head was sick and weird
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| His words remained inside my mind
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| — So cruel, beloved and feared
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| He was the old buccaneer and he said:
|
| «My friend, come on over, lend an ear»
|
| He was the old buccaneer
|
| My friend, come on over, lend an ear
|
| He was the old buccaneer and he said:
|
| «My friend, come on over, lend an ear»
|
| He was the old buccaneer
|
| My friend, come on over, lend an ear |