The Captain's fore-arm like buncht-up rope With A-N-I-T-A wrigglin free onto skull'n'dagger And a portrait of Christ, nailed to an anchor Etched into the upper... Slams his fucken tin-dish down Our Captain, takes time to crush Some Bloo-Bottles glowin in his gruel With a lump in his throat, and lumpy mush Thumbing a scrap book stuck up with clag And a morbid lump of Love in his flag. Done is the Missing, now all that remain Is to sail forever, upon the stain Cabin Fever! O o o' Cabin Fever! The captain's free-hand is a clearer Which he fashions his beard'n'he rations his jerkey! And carves his peg onto the finest mahagony! Or was it Ebony? Etc... Tallys up his loneliness, notch by notch For the sea offers nuthin to hold or touch Notch by notch, winter by winter Notch x notch, winter x winter Now his leg is whittled, right down to a splinter O o Cabin Fever! O o o Cabin Fever! O the rollin sea still rollin on! She's everywhere! Now that she's gone! Gone! Gone! O Cabin Fever! O Cabin Fever! Welcome to his table, Beloved-Unconscious Raisin her host of hair from her crooks And strugglin to summony one of her looks! His arm now like coild s-s-s-snakes Whips all the bottles that he's drunken, Like crystal-skittles about the cabin, Of a ship they'd bin sailing Five years sunken... Etc..