[Intro]
I want to go to another, hmm? "Port of Amsterdam"
This a number by another songwriter, yet again
It's, uh, by a French composer called Jacques Brel, who was writing a long time ago
And he wrote this song about fifteen years ago
Um, and it was called "Port of Amsterdam"
It was true then, it's not untrue now, merely, probably insufficient
Um, if we're slow, I haven't been up very long you see
I'm very bad at getting up, always have been bad at getting up, haven't you? It's terrible
When I was at school my mother could never get me up
She got over it, shе, she found out the trick of getting mе up
She used to put on a black dress and sit on the bed and cry
I'll be up like a shot
Enough of this frivolity
This is, this is the Jacques Brel number
Anyway, it's called "Port of Amsterdam"
[Verse 1]
In the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who sings
Of the dreams that he brings from wide-open sea
And in the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who sleeps
While the river bank weeps to the old willow tree
And in the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who dies
Full of beer, full of cries, in a drunken down fight
In the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who is born
On a hot muggy morn by the dawn's early light
I want to go to another, hmm? "Port of Amsterdam"
This a number by another songwriter, yet again
It's, uh, by a French composer called Jacques Brel, who was writing a long time ago
And he wrote this song about fifteen years ago
Um, and it was called "Port of Amsterdam"
It was true then, it's not untrue now, merely, probably insufficient
Um, if we're slow, I haven't been up very long you see
I'm very bad at getting up, always have been bad at getting up, haven't you? It's terrible
When I was at school my mother could never get me up
She got over it, shе, she found out the trick of getting mе up
She used to put on a black dress and sit on the bed and cry
I'll be up like a shot
Enough of this frivolity
This is, this is the Jacques Brel number
Anyway, it's called "Port of Amsterdam"
[Verse 1]
In the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who sings
Of the dreams that he brings from wide-open sea
And in the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who sleeps
While the river bank weeps to the old willow tree
And in the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who dies
Full of beer, full of cries, in a drunken down fight
In the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who is born
On a hot muggy morn by the dawn's early light
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