Fifteen Men On Dead Man's Chest

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest 

The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike 
The bosun brained with a marlinspike 
And cookey's throat was marked belike 
It had been gripped by fingers ten; 
And there they lay, all good dead men 
Like break o'day in a boozing ken 
The skipper lay with his nob in gore 
Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore 
And the scullion he was stabbed times four 
And there they lay, and the soggy skies 
Dripped down in up-staring eyes 
In murk sunset and foul sunrise 

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest 
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum 
Drink and the devil had done for the rest 
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead 
Or a yawing hole in a battered head 
And the scuppers' glut with a rotting red 
And there they lay, aye, [bad word] my eyes 
Looking up at paradise 
All souls bound just contrawise 
There was chest on chest of Spanish gold 
With a ton of plate in the middle hold 
And the cabins riot of stuff untold, 
And they lay there that took the plum 
With sightless glare and their lips struck dumb 
While we shared all by the rule of thumb, 

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest 
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum 
Drink and the devil had done for the rest 
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

'Twas a flimsy shift on a bunker cot 
With a dirk slit sheer through the bosom spot 
And the lace stiff dry in a purplish blot 
Oh was she wench or some shudderin' maid 
That dared the knife and took the blade 
By God! she had stuff for a plucky jade 
We wrapped 'em all in a mains'l tight 
With twice ten turns of a hawser's bight 
And we heaved 'em over and out of sight, 
With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-you-well 
And a sudden plunge in the sullen swell 
Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell, 

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest 
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum 
Drink and the devil had done for the rest 
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

(Текст - Young E. Allison; музыка - Хагнир)