Drunken Sailor

(Cap D)
 Drunken sailors always favor
 To savor the flavor
 Of rum that they won
 From the fruits of their labors
 Braver from their greater
 Tolerance for them vapors
 Alcohol always falls
 At the root of their Capers
 What happens when they sawing log
 In a haze or a fog
 Face first in their grog?
 You gotta leave em with a mark cause they bein a wog!
 How dare they call them selves a great sea dawg
 Piss on their leg, pose em up on their peg
 Kick them off of their keg, crush their head like an
 Egg
 We don't tolerate debates cause your late
 Yet in a sad sorry state supposed to man your post by 8
 (Chorus)
 What do we do with a drunken sailor
 You know we got them drunken sailors
 What we gonna do with them drunken sailors?
 Earl ae in the mornin? (Wake em up yo)
 (Admirality)
 Eeeeeeearly in the morning is when sailors get to
 Drinking
 In the Royal British Navy where the whiskey does the
 Thinking!
 Make haste to the waste when them mugs begin a clinking
 Yeah you pirates lack the bullocks for the bottles we
 Be sinking
 We're Steaming! The sun's up over the yardarm,
 Dreaming of the better times when we're becalmed
 When you don't know your name, and you smell like a
 Farm
 Time to pop another cork and do yourself some harm
 You may see fit to complain but we can sail when we're
 Tanked,
 Getting the job done while you boys be collapsing like
 Banks
 Pissed as rats but propped up in immaculate ranks
 (Chorus)
 (Sea Dawg)
 A drunken sailor, is there any other kind?
 Where we come from the sober are very hard to find
 Why else are we inclined to be so unkind
 We leave the daily grind behind and risk one eye goin'
 Blind
 Our style is here, albeit a bit belated,
 A fiery breeze in a field so saturated
 Yer sound can be drowned by the screams of others
 If the scurvy crew knocks ye down
 Ye might never recover
 So take cover
 Lest ye discover how
 Merciless we are
 On the battlefield, the card table, or the bar
 We don't give in, we never falter
 Not a man who serves with us will sniff the hempen
 Halter
 We'd rather die in battle instead,
 My men get paid unless they're swingin the lead,
 Fight with me and you'll lose at least a leg,
 Sorry I meant yer head
 Once I made a jury mast from the enemy's dead