What Shall We Do

It was out in Venezuela when I ran into this sailor He was sitting at the bar, right next to me He was rugged he was mean and he wasn’t very clean But I listened when he spoke about the sea There were stories there were tales, of the hunt for killer whales When his leg was bitten off below the knee How en route to Senegal they were shipwrecked in squall He survived for sixteen weeks, tied to a tree Came the time in Kathmandu, him the captain and the crew Were becalmed for seven days, and in a stew So they hauled him up the mast, where they tied him good and fast Then they fed him with baked beans, until he blew After that there came the beast and the native king and priest It was really getting far too much to bear As the yarns grew more far fetched, with my patience sorely stretched I decided that I really didn’t care So I bought him one more rum and I said, “the time has come” That I needed to go out, to use the loo So he said “young man be fast, for you haven’t heard the last, Like, when I first met your mother, in Peru