I’ve landed a job on the high ass seas

You betcha Bob and yessiree

King of the wind, that happens to be me

Straddle a soap-studded rudder, brother

Parting the waters for sons and daughters

To a riot of gold teeth which I bequeath

And many twisted vines

And photocopied throats

Are leaving with my boats

Link further communication

From bombs to glaring red

Yessiree, you betcha Bob

That happens to be me