Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Quay Cur, artist - The Fiery Furnaces. Album song Remember, in the genre Альтернатива
Date of issue: 18.08.2008
Record label: Thrill Jockey
Song language: English
Quay Cur |
I had a locket, a little silver charm |
Given to me for to keep me safe from harm |
Canvassing the quayside, trying to earn my keep |
A killick tore it off my neck and threw it in the deep |
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 |
Up to the quarantine, late night aboard |
Try to raise our fees, but we get what they afford |
Busy work below deck, according to form; |
Waiting for the clear to leave, but then comes up a storm |
We hid beneath the barrels of blubber hoping that the rain had passed |
But when the wind kept up the rats cut down the rigging of the mast |
And then the rust chewed through the anchor chain and out to sea we’re cast |
The clouds dried and cracked |
It was calm and in fact |
The ship had been towed |
By sea Dyaks rode |
So we’re sold at Kolaba |
'n sent--I let out a sob, a |
Cry oh no it’s disaster |
T’Ranter Bay Madagascar |
Great gulps of Greek fire get us in |
Sling sticks at the stockade of Fort Dauphin |
A guardsman gave a griffin said grease my duke |
Down by the chimney and out through the fluke |
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 |
'Course it wasn’t long till I caught the croup |
Dawdling on the drizzy deck of my majesty’s sloop |
If only the helmsman would turn from his whip staff |
With my azimuth compass I go by the graph |
Up to the whaling fleet in Gilbert sound |
Then back in the hull when we come around |
With one hundred seals and two polar bears |
Nearly in the harbor without any cares, but then: |
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 |
Seven saker round shot |
Ice for the moonshine |
And chichsaneg |
Canyglow, canyglow, canyglow, don’t say nugo |
Tie tight my sugnacoon |
In comes the tucktodo |
Aba in aob abinyoh |
Look awennye |
Get out my sawygmeg |
Yliaout, yliaout |
Weave us on shore |
Unuiche quoysah |
Maconmeg |
And I gave a sasobneg |
Canyglow, canyglow, canyglow, don’t say nugo |
Tie tight my sugnacoon |
In comes the tucktodo |
Aba in aob abinyoh |
And now we live by muskles, water weeds, with small relief in store |
And all the sick men in the Galean were then put upon the shore |
And on the 22nd we didn’t see our general anymore |
Down came our trestle-trees, no pitch tar or nails |
Fore shrouds break no rope we trust |
Only one shift of sails |
Drink my Rosa Solis; |
struck suddenly ahull |
Yield ourselves we spoomed, my sinews stiff, my eyes were dull |
And as we cross the equinoctial only five of us could stand |
And while the capstan without sheets or tacks by all of us was manned |
And on the 11th day of June ran in at Barehaven to land |
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 |