Drawn And Quartered Ye Banished Privateers

Long gone merrily up high
In hell our fiddler's swinging:
Long gone! Hanging in the sky
His neck in tightrope wringing

Qua a-a-a-artered and drawn be his intestines!
Qua a-a-a-artered and drawn be his intestines!

Short drop choke him for a while
A dancing, dangling pirate
Take him while he's still alive
And cut off his all his privates

Qua a-a-a-artered and drawn be his intestines!
Qua a-a-a-artered and drawn be his intestines!

Paid your heinous aweful crimes
They broke off all your fingers
No morе beautiful rhymes
Your Parting song, werе singing

Qua a-a-a-artered and drawn be your intestines!
Qua a-a-a-artered and drawn be your intestines!

Buried soon below, below
Our crippled fiddler swungen
Where no flowers ever grow
No priest or people sungen