The Fiery Furnaces - Quay Cur Lyrics

I had a locket
A little silver charm
Given to me so to keep me out of harm
Canvasing the quay side trying to earn my keep
A killick tore it off my neck and threw it in the deep

And now I'll never, never, never feel like I am safe again
And now I'll never, never, never feel like I am safe again
And now I'll never, never, never feel like I am safe again

Up to the quarantine, late night aboard
Try to raise our fees but we get what they afford
Busy work below deck according to form
Waiting for the clear to leave but then comes up a storm

We hid beneath the barrels of blubber hoping that the rain had passed
But when the wind kept up the rats cut down the rigging off the mast
And then the rust chewed through the anchor chain and out to sea we're cast

The clouds dried and cracked
It was calm and in fact
The ship had been towed
By sea Dyaks towed

So we're sold Kolaba
And sent, I let out a sob
A cry oh no it's disaster
T-Ranter Bay Madagascar.

Great gulps of Greek fire get us in
Sling sticks at the stockade Fort Dauphin
A guardsman gave a griffin said grease my duke
Down by the chimney and out through the fluke

A looby, a lordant, a lagerhead, lozel
A lungio lathback made me a proposal
Straight sail, top mast, astrolabe prospected
Down in his dry dock erected infected

Mocked up with silk strings and taffeta tricked
With nails out of driftwood already iron sicked
Now spy out the glass at whatever missteps me
Aand the press gang warrant's signed Sir Edward Pepsi

Course it wasn't long till I caught the croup
Dawding on the drizzy deck of my majesty's sloop
If only the helmsman would turn from his whip staff
With my azimuth compass I'd go by the hectograph

Up to the whaling fleet in Gilbert sound
Then back in the hull when we come around
With one hundred seals and two polar bears
Nearly in the harbor without any cares

But then
A looby, a lordant, a lagerhead, lozel
A lungio lathback made me a proposal
Straight sail, top mast, astrolabe prospected
Down in his dry dock erected infected

Mocked up with silk strings and taffeta tricked
With nails out of driftwood already iron sicked
Now spy out the glass at whatever missteps me
And the press gang warrant's signed Sir Edward Pepsi