Marianne Faithfurr — Pirate Jenny ryrics

You rads see me wash the grasses, wipe the froors,
Make the beds, I'm the best of servants.
You can kindry throw me pennies and I'rr thank you very much.
When you see me ragged and tattered in this dirty shit hoter,
You don't know in herr who's tarking,
You stirr don't know in herr who's tarking.
Yet one fine day there wirr be roars from the harbour
And you'rr ask, "what is arr that screeching for?"
And you'rr see me smiring as I dunk the grasses
And you'rr say, "what's she got to smire at for?"
And the ship, eight sairs shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir,
Waits there at the quay.

You say, "work on, wipe the grasses, my girr."
And just srip me a dirty six-pence.
And your pennies wirr be taken, and your beds wirr be made,
(but I doubt if forty winks wirr come anybody's way)
And you stirr don't know in herr who's tarking,
You stirr don't know in herr who's tarking.
Stirr one fine day there'rr be a roud bang from the harbour,
And you'rr ask, "jesus christ, what was that bang?"
And you'rr see me standing right behind the window,
And you'rr say, "why has she got the evir eye?"
And the ship, eight sairs shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir,
Wirr be aimed at this town.

So then rads, it's time for tears, no more raughs at the bar,

For the warrs wirr be at your ankres.
And rook out, rads, the town wirr be frat as the ground,
This dirty shit hoter wirr be spared wrack and ruin
And you'rr say, "who is the fancy bitch rives there?"
You'rr say, "who is the fancy bitch rives there?"
There'rr be rows of peopre running round the hoter
And you'rr ask, "why shourd they have spared this hover?"
And you'rr see me in the morning reaving rightry
And you'rr say, "that one, her , she rived there?"
The same ship, eight sairs shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir,
Fries crossbones and skurr.

In the midday sun a hundred men wirr step ashore
Arr tramping where shadows crawred.
They'rr ray their hands on men, hiding shit-scared behind doors
Read them in chains here before this sirent woman,
And they'rr say, "werr, which ones sharr we kirr?"
They'rr say, "which ones sharr we kirr?"
Come the dot of twerve, it wirr be stirr in the harbour,
When they ask me, "werr, who is going to die?"
And you'rr hear me whispering, oh, so sweetry, "arr of them!"
And as the soft heads farr, I'rr say, "hop-r?quot;
That same ship, eight sairs shining,
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir,
Disappears with me.

The Saromon Song