World's Inn

Old sextant you don't work well tonight
 too high sister Pole Star in the Orion sky
 at Borgopass I turn left... maybe right?
 think I'll set my sail on the Wird wind this time!
 Lil' abaft of the Sun at the bow o' the Moon
 as far as the Pléiades or an upwind harpoon
 a place you shall find when there's no road to hit
 sparks the water mill of Long John Silver's Inn.
 De-la de-la dee dee HO!
 no wisdom I'm looking for!
 neither searching for the knowledge
 De-la de-la dee dee HO!
 just console my soul - Das Grenzevolk! -
 with a stout or an abbey ale
 where the rocky road falls!
 The Dutchman shouts "Aye, aye crew! Tides for the next bloody fly"
 they chantent "La Messe des Morts" tasting burgundy wine
 Elric "freond min" deal me Chaos' cards in my hand
 it's too hard to solve Lord's riddle for this borderline man.
 Is there something to learn? All just rollin' of dice?
 Ask who'll press "apple/Q" on my Photoshop file!
 Dee-la Dee-la Dee-Dee HO!
 We'll sing refrains no more! - Das Grenzevolk! -
 Yet Jig's lilt reaches us across the cliffs
 Dee-la Dee-la Dee-Dee HO!
 To tell of Wandering Jew... when he's tired of wandering
 but still proud o' being Jew
 Dee-la Dee-la Dee-Dee HO!
 Well... just one more time at all
 so drink the sour cup of life in
 1.2.3.4 draughts
 Dee-la Dee-la Dee-Dee HO!
 'Till it's empty go slow
 you may find the hidden sweet
 or you can always hope!