The Crew’s Duties

(Cook)
I’m hacking the salt beef as tough as a boot,
While dodging the embers and soot from the chute.
The stove is a furnace, the galley’s a mine,
And the scupper runs red with the brine!
(Rower)
I’m pulling the oar till my knuckles are raw,
To feed the great beast with its hungering jaw.
The drumbeat is steady, our spirits decline,
And the scupper runs red with the brine!
(Sailor)
I’m reefing the topsails in freezing high gales,
With ice on the rigging and wind in the sails.
If I slip from the yard, I’ll be lost to the line,
And the scupper runs red with the brine!
(Gunner)
I’m hauling the carriage and swabbing the bore,
To ready the iron for thunder and war.
The powder is dry and the air is divine,
And the scupper runs red with the brine!
(Captain)
I’m charting the course through the devil’s own teeth,
With gold on the deck and the corals beneath.
The ledger is written in ink and in wine,
And the scupper runs red with the brine!
(Surgeon)
I’m sharpening saws by the candle’s dim light,
To mend what is broken in middle of fight.
With ether and iron, your limbs I’ll entwine,
And the scupper runs red with the brine!
(Cabin Boy)
I’m scrubbing the grime from the officer’s plate,
A child of the ocean, a servant of fate.
I’m dodging the lash and I’m toeing the line,
And the scupper runs red with the brine!

Traditional maritime sea shanty, baritone male vocal lead with chorus backing, rhythmic rowing tempo, acoustic folk, 18t