| I had a locket, a little silver charm
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| Given to me for to keep me safe from harm
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| Canvassing the quayside, trying to earn my keep
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| A killick tore it off my neck and threw it in the deep
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| And now I’ll never never never feel like I’m safe again
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| And now I’ll never never never feel like I’m safe again
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| And now I’ll never never never feel like I’m safe again
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| Up to the quarantine, late night aboard
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| Try to raise our fees, but we get what they afford
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| Busy work below deck, according to form;
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| Waiting for the clear to leave, but then comes up a storm
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| We hid beneath the barrels of blubber hoping that the rain had passed
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| But when the wind kept up the rats cut down the rigging of the mast
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| And then the rust chewed through the anchor chain and out to sea we’re cast
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| The clouds dried and cracked
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| It was calm and in fact
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| The ship had been towed
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| By sea Dyaks rode
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| So we’re sold at Kolaba
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| 'n sent--I let out a sob, a
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| Cry oh no it’s disaster
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| T’Ranter Bay Madagascar
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| Great gulps of Greek fire get us in
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| Sling sticks at the stockade of Fort Dauphin
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| A guardsman gave a griffin said grease my duke
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| Down by the chimney and out through the fluke
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| A looby, a lordant, a lagerhead, lozel
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| A lungio, lathback made me a proposal:
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| Straight sail, top mast, astrolabe prospected
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| Down in his dry dock, erected, infected
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| Mocked up with silk strings and taffeta tricked
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| With nails out of driftwood already iron sicked
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| Now spy out the glass at whatever missteps me
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| And the press-gang's warrant’s signed Sir Edward Pepsi
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| 'Course it wasn’t long till I caught the croup
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| Dawdling on the drizzy deck of my majesty’s sloop
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| If only the helmsman would turn from his whip staff
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| With my azimuth compass I go by the graph
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| Up to the whaling fleet in Gilbert sound
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| Then back in the hull when we come around
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| With one hundred seals and two polar bears
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| Nearly in the harbor without any cares, but then:
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| A looby, a lordant, a lagerhead, lozel
|
| A lungio, lathback made me a proposal:
|
| Straight sail, top mast, astrolabe prospected
|
| Down in his dry dock, erected, infected
|
| Mocked up with silk strings and taffeta tricked
|
| With nails out of driftwood already iron sicked
|
| Now spy out the glass at whatever missteps me
|
| And the press-gang's warrant’s signed Sir Edward Pepsi
|
| Half-hour sandglass
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| Seven saker round shot
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| Ice for the moonshine
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| And chichsaneg
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| Canyglow, canyglow, canyglow, don’t say nugo
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| Tie tight my sugnacoon
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| In comes the tucktodo
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| Aba in aob abinyoh
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| Look awennye
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| Get out my sawygmeg
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| Yliaout, yliaout
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| Weave us on shore
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| Unuiche quoysah
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| Maconmeg
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| And I gave a sasobneg
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| Canyglow, canyglow, canyglow, don’t say nugo
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| Tie tight my sugnacoon
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| In comes the tucktodo
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| Aba in aob abinyoh
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| And now we live by muskles, water weeds, with small relief in store
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| And all the sick men in the Galean were then put upon the shore
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| And on the 22nd we didn’t see our general anymore
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| Down came our trestle-trees, no pitch tar or nails
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| Fore shrouds break no rope we trust
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| Only one shift of sails
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| Drink my Rosa Solis; |
| struck suddenly ahull
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| Yield ourselves we spoomed, my sinews stiff, my eyes were dull
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| And as we cross the equinoctial only five of us could stand
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| And while the capstan without sheets or tacks by all of us was manned
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| And on the 11th day of June ran in at Barehaven to land
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| And now I’ll never never never feel like I’m safe again
|
| And now I’ll never never never feel like I’m safe again
|
| And now I’ll never never never feel like I’m safe again |