I've developed a pilonidal cyst. I'll spare you the gory details, but part of my treatment is soaking in warm water and trying to drain the puss and goo out of a small hole in my lower back. Swell. As a grown man, sitting in a tub makes me feel like a chump. To boost my morale, I've composed a shanty to sing while soaking. Now, with some bubble bath, my favorite toy boat (HMS The Congaree Queen), and some rum, things aren't so bad. So, I thought I'd share my shanty with everyone. I apologize for its length, but I have to soak for long stretches. I also apologize for some of the expletives, but I've heard that life at sea can get a bit coarse and I wanted the song to be authentic. Without further ado, ahoy!
The Captain stumbled up to me; Said, “Aye, my lad, we’re fucked; The first mate, he’s been keel-hauled; The lieutenant’s gone off drunk; The hold is full of water; And the mast’s gone by the boards; So, now’s the time to kneel down; And pray out to the Lord!”
‘Cause we’re goin’ down! Goin down! We’re goin’ down! Goin’ down! We’re looking for the shoreline; But there’s water all around. We’re goin’ down! Goin down! We’re goin’ down! Goin’ down! Without some kind of miracle; The men will all be drowned.
I ran along from stem to stern; And a bell rang on the deck; Somebody yelled, “The Captain’s dead!”; So I went down to check; There below the Captain hung; His wings all shorn and clipped; “What a fuckin’ way,” I screamed; “To go down with the ship!”
‘Cause we’re goin’ down! Goin down! We’re goin’ down! Goin’ down! The men all jumping overboard; And no hope to be found. We’re goin’ down! Goin down! We’re goin’ down! Goin’ down! Wind and fear and blood and brine; The ocean’s ghastly shroud.
On for days and days we tossed; So many I lost count; Around me there lay dying men; But I dare not look about; From each great wave, we’d bottom-out; And then another swell; I heard a voice beside me moan; “Dear God, this ship’s in Hell!”
I opened my eyes and swore I saw; A strand up through the rain; But without no food or water; I was sure I’d gone insane; But, no, I spied a tattered man; There standing on the beach; A crowd came forward and then they roared; As he began to preach:
“There you see a frigate smashed; With one lone man aboard; In due time he’ll find this beach; Or be dash’d upon the shore; Let’s stay a bit and watch him come; Perhaps throw him a rope; But if at last the ship it sinks; We might as well go home.”
‘Cause he’s goin’ down! Goin down! He’s goin’ down! Goin’ down! “He’s sailed ‘cross many miles; Just to run a-ground.” He’s goin’ down! Goin down! He’s goin’ down! Goin’ down! “There’s cadavers in the crow’s nest; And a corpse there swingin’ ‘round.”
‘Cause he’s goin’ down! Goin down! He’s goin’ down! Goin’ down! “There may be one more corpse to swing; So let’s all gather ‘round; There’s one last soul upon that ship; Who prays that he’s been found!”