(Brooker / Reid)
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'All hands on deck, we've run afloat!' I heard the captain cry
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'Explore the ship, replace the cook: let no one leave alive!'
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Across the straits, around the Horn: how far can sailors fly?
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A twisted path, our tortured course, and no one left alive
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We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die
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No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain's eye
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Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call
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A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all
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We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship to shore
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The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears of joy
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Now many moons and many Junes have passed since we made land
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A salty dog, this seaman's log: your witness my own hand
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A Salty Dog
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Gary Brooker |