Dirty Weather

The last thing I remember was s spot of dirty weather and the captain yelling through his beard!
The next time I saw sunlight, face and fingers didn't feel right! There was a pint of briny stowed in either ear!
Bits of boat and sail confused a glassy sea. Though much abused, the tempest, in the end, had let me live!
Drifting cold and dead, the captain's sideboard knocked against my head! Inside were rum and a soaking crust of bread!
Hey-ho for the captain's sideboard!
Hey-ho for the captain's sideboard!
Come evening time a reddened eye gazed down and set the seas awry. The stirring surge revealed a thick-tongued cry!
Not alone; a bubbling moan! I likened it to pale-blue toes... Just there! A pale-blue face o'er pale-blue bones!
Hey-ho it's the corpse of Feyrac!
Hey-ho it's the corpse of Feyrac!
The semi-buoyant frist-mate had expired, met dampened fate! But hi blinked and swam, at least, a mortal rate...
He beckoned me, where could I run? He asked if I knew how far he'd come. The captain had sent him up to fetch the rum!
Hey-ho, for the dead are thirsty!
Hey-ho, for the dead are thirsty!
I wondered if a ghost could drink the ghost of rum, for the bottle tinkled clear and empty; I was long since done.
He waited there, I scratched my hair; I needed rum but how and where? I longed to cut away but hardly dared!
Old Feyrac's drowned and swimming face implied the course was clear. My fate was death at sea, and I was late.
So standing, knife in hand, I plunged the blade into my stomach and the fount was bottled up, as Feyrac planned.
Hey-ho, for the dead are thirsty!
Hey-ho for the ghost of Feyrac!
Hey-ho for the corpse of Feyrac!
Hey-ho for the captain's sideboard!
And I went to join my Captain!
And I went to join my Captain!