Still

scow-

ing

black

Good

Cap-

tain

Clack

Must

eat

his

hum-

ble

pie.

His

bed

is

made

The

co-

lours

fade.

His

eyes

once

wet

are

dry.

The

na-

kaed

muse

Who

sits

and

chews

To-

bac-

co

off

a

tree.

Re-

moves

his

shoes

Gives

way

to

booze

And

search-

es

end-

less-

ly.

See

the

na-

ked

jum-

ber-

lack

Sip

his

a-

phro-

di-

si-

ac.

Cot-

ton

pick-

ing

far-

mers

three

Though

I

lost

my

weath-

er

vane.

And

of

sense

I

have

one

grain.

I'm

con-

tent

sip-

ping

le-

mon

tea.

Still

scow-

ing

black

Good

Cap-

tain

Clack

Must

eat

his

hum-

ble

pie.

His

bed

is

made

The

co-

lours

fade.

His

eyes

once

wet

are...