| Dear dirty London in the pouring rain
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| I wish to God I was back on the sea again
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| Though that belongs to the world of never will be
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| There was never a wilder bastard than me on the sea
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| I could fuck all the whores in damnation me boys
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| Though they wriggled and hollered and made a great noise
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| Then I’d drink till I stank and then drink plenty more
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| And I won’t go down to the sea any more
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| But if I had ten pounds then I’d raise a loud cheer
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| And I’d toast all me neighbours both distant and dear
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| And I’d shoot back great belly-crippling buckets of beer
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| And a pox and a curse on the people round here
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| Wouldn’t give you me the price of a half pint of beer
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| Wouldn’t give you me the price of a cup of good cheer
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| A pox and a curse on the people round here
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| A man’s ambition must indeed be small
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| To write his name upon a shithouse wall
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| But before I die I’ll add my regal scrawl
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| To show the world I’m left with sweet fuck all
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| And when all of us bold shithouse poets do die
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| A monument grand they will raise to the sky
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| A monument made just to mark our great wit
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| A monument of solid shit now me boys
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| I met with Bill James we fought over crusts
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| I called him a whore and he booted me crotch
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| Then we shared out the jack and we thought it a treat
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| The compliments pass when the quality meet
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| The compliments pass when the quality meet
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| The compliments pass when the quality meet
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| The compliments pass when the quality meet |