The Captain's fore-arm like buncht-up rope   with A-N-I-T-A wrigglin free onto skull'n'dagger   and a portrait of Christ, nailed to an anchor   etched into the upper...   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 scrap book stuck up with clag   and a morbid lump of Love in his flag.   Done is the Missing, now all that remain   Is to sail forever, upon the stain   Cabin Fever! O o o' Cabin Fever!      The captain's free-hand is a clearer   which he fashions his beard'n'he rations his jerkey!   and carves his peg onto the finest mahagony!   Or was it Ebony? etc...      Tallys 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 summony one of her looks!   His arm now like coild s-s-s-snakes   Whips all the bottles that he's drunken,   like crystal-skittles about the cabin,   of a ship they'd bin sailing      Five years sunken... etc...