| Chillin' on the ship, swabbin' the poopdeck. |
| Suddenly have the urge to thrash
|
| and wreak you neck
|
| Call up the cap’n, ask if you can rock. |
| The silly bildgerat yells now «Go pack the food stock!»
|
| Feeling like the scurvy has really got you down. |
| Hoping for some meat now,
|
| even if it’s ground
|
| With only chum in sight and no urge to chomp, gather 'round the crew,
|
| its time to fucking stomp!
|
| Do the peg leg stomp!
|
| Hook for a hand, a bit 'o wood for a leg. |
| And people wounder why pirates always
|
| tap the keg!
|
| If you were missing limbs, you’d be pissed too. |
| So drink and mosh and drink and
|
| thrash, and then we run you through!
|
| Feeling like that scurvy has really got you down. |
| Hoping for some metal,
|
| the fastest shred around!
|
| With only sea in sight and this really itchy rash, gather 'round the crew,
|
| it’s time to fucking thrash! |