I rather like humanity, and I'm often told I'm strange because of it.
I rather like humanity, and I'm often told I'm strange because of it.
'Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead
Or a yawing hole in a battered head
And the scuppers clogged with rotting red
And there they lay I damn me eyes
All lookouts clapped on Paradise
All souls bound just contrarywise, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!