Cthulu Cthomes

Atop some floating wreckage,
A sailor came ashore.
He bought himself a tankard
And a burly surly whore.

In one gulp he downed the lager
And did likewise to the lass.
Told the waitress not to bother
And shot fire from his ass.

We watched as with one wooden leg,
He hopped upon the bar,
And beer flew from his ragged beard
As he yarred a mighty yar.

All you little bastards, said he,
with voice made thick with drink,
Are little shabby tarts and
land-loving cunts I think.

But if you'd like to change,
And clean the sand from out your slit,
I can give your life a purpose,
And a soul to go with it.

Just sign upon the dotted line,
Make sure your mark is neat and clear,
Kiss your wife and child back at home,
And leave your will and test right here.

This thursday we be leaving,
To drink on foreign shores.
To pluck the finest foreign skirts
From the finest foreign whores.

And if ye have the stomache
To see the voyage till its through,
Bounty can be yours,
From captain Cthulu.