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• Artiste: Fiery Furnaces (The)
• Titre: Quay Cur
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I had a locket A little silver charm Given to me so to keep me out of harm Canvasing the quay side trying to earn my keep A killick tore it off my neck and threw it in the deep And now I'll never, never, never feel like I am safe again And now I'll never, never, never feel like I am safe again And now I'll never, never, never feel like I am safe again Up to the quarantine, late night aboard Try to raise our fees but we get what they afford Busy work below deck according to form Waiting for the clear to leave but then comes up a storm We hid beneath the barrels of blubber hoping that the rain had passed But when the wind kept up the rats cut down the rigging off the mast And then the rust chewed through the anchor chain and out to sea we're cast The clouds dried and cracked It was calm and in fact The ship had been towed By sea Dyaks towed So we're sold Kolaba And sent, I let out a sob A cry oh no it's disaster T-Ranter Bay Madagascar. Great gulps of Greek fire get us in Sling sticks at the stockade Fort Dauphin A guardsman gave a griffin said grease my duke Down by the chimney and out through the fluke A looby, a lordant, a lagerhead, lozel A lungio lathback made me a proposal Straight sail, top mast, astrolabe prospected Down in his dry dock erected infected Mocked up with silk strings and taffeta tricked With nails out of driftwood already iron sicked Now spy out the glass at whatever missteps me Aand the press gang warrant's signed Sir Edward Pepsi Course it wasn't long till I caught the croup Dawding on the drizzy deck of my majesty's sloop If only the helmsman would turn from his whip staff With my azimuth compass I'd go by the hectograph Up to the whaling fleet in Gilbert sound Then back in the hull when we come around With one hundred seals and two polar bears Nearly in the harbor without any cares But then A looby, a lordant, a lagerhead, lozel A lungio lathback made me a proposal Straight sail, top mast, astrolabe prospected Down in his dry dock erected infected Mocked up with silk strings and taffeta tricked With nails out of driftwood already iron sicked Now spy out the glass at whatever missteps me And the press gang warrant's signed Sir Edward Pepsi