<script type="text/javascript" src="newaudioplayer.js"></script>
The Harbour Master:
Listing in port
wallowing between the safe haven of your thighs.
Me beam splits before the ensign is hoisted.
A trawler's perfume floats by
windward of the mainsail.
Me sea legs fail and me arse gives way
in unison with the cannon fire of projectile vomit.
We flounder in a sea of curried goat,
Bushmills, and bad Guinness.
The Harbour Master:
Listing in port
wallowing between the safe haven of your thighs.
Me beam splits before the ensign is hoisted.
A trawler's perfume floats by
windward of the mainsail.
Me sea legs fail and me arse gives way
in unison with the cannon fire of projectile vomit.
We flounder in a sea of curried goat,
Bushmills, and bad Guinness.