Our voyage now draws out
Yet our captain wont about
Growing the crew's doubt
As the supplies run ever thin

So we'll drink down the blood wine
and we'll feast on flesh malign
That we pretend is just swine
Per sailor’s creed, provisions therein

We've run out the ship’s biscuit
It's been weeks since that brisket
Too hungry to resist it
We resort to our own kin So we'll drink down the blood wine
and we'll feast on flesh malign
That we pretend is just swine
Per sailor’s creed, provisions therein

What was our daily pint of beer
Has dropped to a pot so shear
Towards John we now start to sneer
Cause he finished off the gin

So we'll drink down the blood wine
and we'll feast on flesh malign
That we pretend is just swine
Per sailor’s creed, provisions therein