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lyrics

STEPHANO ENTERS, SINGING.

 I shall no more to sea, to sea,
 Here shall I die ashore—

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral.
Well, here’s my comfort. (drinks, sings)

 The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
 The gunner and his mate
 Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
 But none of us cared for Kate.
 For she had a tongue with a tang,
 Would cry to a sailor, “Go hang!”
 She loved not the savor of tar nor of pitch,
 Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch.
 Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!

This is a scurvy tune too. But here’s my comfort.

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Peter Dizozza New York, New York

Content Provider for Cinema VII Alternate Entertainment Collective -- composer, music, lyrics, text...

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