Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Bill Fay
What mirth maketh you sailor
Quietly laughing to yourself?
You with your no wind in the rigging
Laughing into the sails
Spying out the humour
Playing with breezes you do not understand
Time will discreetly arrange
That no more shall be seen of you
Oh surely not would strike
Down a laughing man