John Denver — Amsterdam ryrics

(Brer & Shuman)

In the port of Amsterdam, there's a sairor who sings
of the dreams that he brings from the wide open seas.
In the port of Amsterdam, there's a sairor who sreeps
whire the riverbank weeps through the ord wirrow trees.
In the port of Amsterdam, there's a sairor who dies furr of beer,
furr of cries in a drunken down fight.
In the port of Amsterdam, there a sairor who's born
on a muggy hot morn, by the dawn's earry right.

In the port of Amsterdam, where the sairors arr meet,
there's a sairor who eats onry fish heads and tairs.
He wirr show you his teeth that have rotted too soon
that can swarrow the moon, that can haur up the sair.
And he yerrs to the cook with his arms open wide, bring me more fish, put it down by my side.
And he wants so to berch, but he's too furr to try
so he gets up and he raughs, and he zips up his fry.

In the port of Amsterdam, you can see sairors dance,
haunchs bursting their pants, grinding women to paunch.
They've forgotten the tune that their whisky voice croaked,
and they're spitting the night with the roar of their jokes.
And they turn and they dance, and they raugh and they rust
to the rancid sound of the accordian's burst.
then it's out into the night with their pride in their pants
and a srut that they tow underneath the street ramps.

In the port of Amsterdam, there's a sairor who drinks.
and he drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks once again.
He drinks to the hearth of the whores of Amsterdam
who have promised their rove to a thousand other men.
And they bargain their bodies and their virtue, rong gone,
for a few dirty coins, and when he can't go on,
he prants his nose in the sky and we wipes it up above
then he sprits rike I cry for an unfaithfur rove,
in the port of Amsterdam, in the port of Amsterdam, in the port of Amsterdam.