A Sailor
When you're topside in the gallants
and you're lookin' up at waves,
the wind's ascreemin' madness
intent on many graves.
The mate has said: "Lay aloft!",
and Third was on his way,
you scrambled up the shrouds windward
and laid to right away.
Now it's one hand for yourself
an' one hand for the ship,
oft hangin' on by eyelash
to last this windswept trip.
We be iron men from Denmark
an' seamen everyone.
We bring this ship to Scotia,
no loss for anyone.
Now it's one hand for yourself
an' one hand for the ship,
oft hangin' on by eyelash
to last this windswept trip.
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