Shore leave

Stands the drunken sailor,
Bruised, unbeaten on the floor;
Rebel fists bludgeon, batter,
While ship mates cry all wanting more.

Cheer the drunken sailors,
As he moves towards his foreign foe;
Ships pride carried proudly,
On tattooed arms, in grisly show.

Roar the drunken sailors,
As he grabs the Lion by the mane;
Ladies shrieking, swooning,
Forehead to teeth with no refrain.

Rows of drunken sailors,
Toasting tonight's champion;
Another nights hard earnt valour,
Spit some blood and drink some more.

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