Friggin' in the Riggin'

Friggin' in the riggin

Friggin' in the riggin

There's fuck-all else to do.

The captain of the lugger

Was known as a filthy bugger,

Declared unfit to shovel shit

From one pile to another.

The first mate's name was Morgan,

By God, he was a gorgon.

Ten times a day he'd stop to play

Upon the captain's organ.

Friggin' in the riggin

Friggin' in the riggin

There's fuck-all else to do.

The second mate was Hooper,

By God, he was a trooper.

He jerked and jerked until he worked

Himself into a stupor.

The bosun's name was Andy,

By God, he had a dandy.

We crushed his cock upon a rock

For cumming in the brandy.

Friggin' in the riggin

Friggin' in the riggin

There's fuck-all else to do.

The ship's dog's name was Rover,

We turned the poor thing over,

And ground and ground that faithful hound

From Tenerife to Dover.

While sailing on the ocean,

We often had the notion,

In cold and heat, to beat the meat

With a peculiar motion.

Friggin' in the riggin

Friggin' in the riggin

There's fuck-all else to do.

Becalmed in the Sargasso,

To make the doldrums pass-o,

We launched a spree of buggery

Upon each other's ass-o.

And when we reached our station

Through skillful navigation,

Our ship was sunk in a wave of spunk

From too much masturbation.

Friggin' in the riggin

Friggin' in the riggin

There's fuck-all else to do.