Cabin Fever!

The captains fore-arm like bunched-up rope



With A-N-I-T-A wrigglin' free on a skull 'n dagger



And a portrait of Christ, nailed to an anchor



Etched into his upper



O, O, O cabin fever!



O, O, O cabin fever!



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 scrapbook stuck up with clag



And a morbid lump of love in his flags



Done is the missing, now all that remains



Is to sail forever, upon the stain



Cabin fever!



O, O, O cabin fever!



The captains free-hand is a cleaver



Which he fashions his beard, and he rations his jerkey



And carves his peg outa the finest mahagony



Or was it ebony? Etc.



Tallies 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 summon one of her looks



His arm now like coiled s-s-snakes



Whips all the bottles that he's drunk



Like crystal, skittles about the cabin



Of a ship they'd been sailing



Five years sunken, etc.