Tiger Lillies Fishermen
On the portside whores are singing while the rubbers
they are flinging of a night of fornicating
with sailors far away
While the sun it is setting the fishermen are netting the
whores
sperm they are begetting of sailors far away
And the sailors they are ithing their syphillis is
twitching a gift
of those bewitching whores now far away
The sailors they are singing for soon
they will be drowning on the sea
on which they're sailing now so far away
