Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia

It was out in Venezuela when I ran into this sailor

He was sitting at the bar, right next to me

He was rugged he was mean and he wasn’t very clean

But I listened when he spoke about the sea

There were stories there were tales, of the hunt for killer whales

When his leg was bitten off below the knee

How en route to Senegal they were shipwrecked in squall

He survived for sixteen weeks, tied to a tree

Came the time in Kathmandu, him the captain and the crew

Were becalmed for seven days, and in a stew

So they hauled him up the mast, where they tied him good and fast

Then they fed him with baked beans, until he blew

After that there came the beast and the native king and priest

It was really getting far too much to bear

As the yarns grew more far fetched, with my patience sorely stretched

I decided that I really didn’t care

So I bought him one more rum and I said, “the time has come”

That I needed to go out, to use the loo

So he said “young man be fast, for you haven’t heard the last,

Like, when I first met your mother, in Peru