[Douglas G. Brown]

Oh, come with me to see the sea, you sad benighted lubber;
We'll take a trip upon a ship, a steamboat, or a sub or
A royal barge, and we'll live large, like good old Al Capone did;
We'll hire crews to smuggle booze, or pot, or coke, or acid.

We'll roll in dough, the cash will flow in torrents like Niagara;
We'll live like lords and bed the broads, assisted with Viagra.
Our life will be devoid of strife, we'll pay no income taxes;
And down below, we'll snort some blow, a jolly prophylaxis!

Buy there's a fly, I can't deny, in this enticing ointment;
It's Davey Jones, who makes no bones when you have an appointment
To meet with him; it's mighty grim, and what this bastard askes
Would fail to please old Hercules, so daunting are his taskes.

The wind will blow so hard we'll know when we've reached our last minute;
(The life of glee upon the sea expires when you're in it).
Our craft will creak, and spring a leak, and we'll plunge like a rock or
A meteor; forevermore, we'll be in Davey's locker.