Lend me now your stump of an ear,
me foul brethren of the sea.
Avast yer drinkin’ and yer wenchin’,
and hearken ye now to me.
For tis a good yarn I have to tell;
of the cunning Japanee.
They sail upon the seven seas,
in vessels big and tiny.
With cargo holds right brimming full
of treasure; round and shiny.
Treasure, I say, to put an industry in
a grave that’s deep and briny.
I tell ye it is fair to look upon
the sun rising in the morn.
And it gladdens the cockles of me heart
to capture a maid wellborne.
But the thing I ever wish to see, is
damned Rosen bereft, forlorn.
So man the guns ye buccaneers
a full broadside shall we fire.
And sink that rotting music hulk
with our rippling cannon choir.
Then after the lubbers burn and drown?
Free music we’ll acquire.
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