Oh gather round me bully boys
And I'll zing you a zong
Of the windless waveless sunless Zee
Where the mouldy drownies throng

Here's to the girls of Mr Veils
Here's to their golden locks
Here's to a fight in the moonish light
Under the Wolfstack docks.
Some dream of sun and rain and sky
And the true wind in their zails
Us Neathy tars won’t swap the stars
For the girls of Mr Veils!

Gars - : busy

Es jūtos kā noslēdzis darījumu ar teh devil. Vienīgi. Nepamanīju līgumā, ka es neko par to neiegūstu.

Gars - : blank