Salt Fare North Sea - Chumbawamba

Roll on, roll off

With these words I drown

Topmast secured

Hatches battened down

Sometimes I think

It must be different on land

But from the mast I can only see tyrants

Still in command

Fish and chip supper

Battered, no bones

Hung, drawn and quartered

Drifting alone

One thousand lashes

For the Age of Reason

Salt for your wounds

When the cod’s in season

Salt fare, North Sea

Salt fare, North Sea

Salt fare, North Sea

Salt fare, North Sea

We reach the horizon

And sail over the edge

Drunk on our memories

More sober than a judge

I’m wasting time

That I can’t afford

I know I’d die on the gallows

Before I’d die of being bored

Drifting alone, drifting alone, drifting alone

Drifting alone, drifting alone, drifting alone

Salt fare, North Sea

Drifting alone, drifting alone, drifting alone

Salt fare, North Sea

Drifting alone, drifting alone, drifting alone

Salt fare, North Sea

Drifting alone, drifting alone, drifting alone

Salt fare, North Sea

Drifting alone, drifting alone, drifting alone

Salt fare, North Sea

Drifting alone, drifting alone, drifting alone

Salt fare, North Sea