"'Twas quite the inky black night All the weather vanes were turning And the constable was burning out his light When low our anchors went down, barnacle bound The men were up and churning Yes, and soon the square was burning to the ground And oh the flames were as gold I scour at the angry moon I am sick on myself I'm a bum What have I become A drunken maroon run aground In this rotten town It's been a fortnight or two The mutant ears are plotting against the captain as I'm rotting in the goo The constable was set to drown while the shabby scabs Who went to town were reconnoitering with blades and guns But the ale had started spilling Yes, and soon the crew was killing everyone And all the streets burned with gold, Baha'ullah my bones were so cold I scour at the angry moon I am sick on myself I'm a bum What have I become A drunken maroon run aground In this rotten town I still walk down the harbor to the tavern on the square And heard a raucous ruckus as it rang From some foul inebriates Some men I used to call my mates Were lost in song and this is what they sang They sang ""Hey, hi, oh, ho! O'er the Atlantic we go Drinking 'til we all get sick And coming up with limericks But we never quite remember how they end"" I can see my childhood home I think of my dear old mum What have I become I scour at the angry moon I am sick on myself I'm a bum What have I become A drunken maroon run aground In this rotten town (I scour at the angry moon) I am sick on myself I'm a bum What have I become A drunken maroon run aground In this rotten town (I scour at the angry moon) I am sick on myself I'm a bum What have I become A drunken maroon run aground In this rotten town (In this rotten) In this rotten, In this rotten Town!
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