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Tim B Written by: Tim B  Send Soup Mail  
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Three Sheets To Tha Wind

No, I did nay walk the cold harbour docks
Felt too tipsy and fell in the drink
Drank too much as the ticker in me tocks
Dead men tell no tales in the blink
Eyes patched over me hardy, yar, flows
The wine inta piss, my heart inta bliss
Rows the dead man telling no tales
Rows the dead man drinkin those ales
Three to tha wind laddies, heave ho
I'm nay walkin home, I can't go.

Copyright © Tim B




Book: Reflection on the Important Things