Rolling on the sickening sea
Hungry for women’s touch and laughter
Tired of young sailor ass and rotten apples
We’ll take the tinpot tyrant’s sword and pistol
Leave him in a ship sized for his spirit
Enjoy island freedom for the rest of our days
Living on ever more expensive land
Missionaries come hungry for our souls
Tired of changing service terms and loss of titles
We’ll not take mixing with low castes
Leave the Britishman on an island sized for his spirit
Enjoy Indian freedom for the rest of our days
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