Sir Reg - Capt'n's Jig | Текст песни

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• Sir Reg
• Capt'n's Jig

Hoist her up and go afar
don’t give a damn if we’ll cross the bar.
We’re sailing away on this rotten brig
while dancing the Capt’n’s jig!

Letters o’ grace, letters o’ Marque!
Grant me permission to sink that barque!
Name me ‘a dog’, call me ‘a pig’!
I’m dancing the Capt’n’s jig, oh!

Hoist’em up them scarlet sails
else you’ll be flung by the Cat o’ nine tails.
(Oh,) hare-brained fools! This isn’t a rig;
we’re dancing the Capt’n’s jig!

Whimps of the flock, men of dry land;
whining like children when far off the strand.
Throw off yer frock, burn up yer whig
and dance the Capt’n’s jig, oh!

He’s dancing right here yet dancing so far away
(Needless to say!)
His drunken steps are keeping the reefs at bay.
(All the way!)
The Capt’n’s ode to Terpsichore is plain
(So it’s said!)
His cannons keeps his rhythm, their rhythm is his name

We do not sing, just ululate
whilst spending on liquor our puny rent
It doesn’t pay off, the check is not big,
to dance the Capt’n’s jig…
Listen here, now listen straight
the crowd be a’waiting, we mustn’t wait
Pillage our show, plunder’s our gig
we’re dancing the Capt’n’s jig, oh!

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