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by Tom Lewis
This dirty town has been my home since last time I was sailing
But I'll not stay another day, I'd sooner be out whaling
Oh Lord above, send down a dove,
With beak as sharp as razors
To cut the throat of them there blokes
Who sells bad beer to sailors
Paid off me score and them ashore, me money soon was flying
With Judy Lee upon my knee in my ear a lying
With my newfound friends, my money spent just as fast as winking
But when I make to clean the slate, the landlord says, "Keep Drinking"
With me money gone and clothes in pawn and Judy set for leaving
Six months of pay gone in three days, but Judy isn't grieving
When the crimp comes round, I'll take his pound
and his hand I'll be shaking
Tomorrow morn sail for the Horn just as dawn is breaking
So for one last trip from port I'll ship but next time back I'm swearing
I'll settle down in my hometown and go no more seafaring
written by Tom Lewis
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