The Captain's fore-arm like buncht-up rope  with A-N-I-T-A wrigglin free onto skull'n'dagger  and a portrait of Christ, nailed to an anchor  etched into the upper...  Slams his fucken tin-dish down  Our Captain, takes time to crush  Some Bloo-Bottles glowin in his gruel  with a lump in his throat, and lumpy mush  Thumbing a scrap book stuck up with clag  and a morbid lump of Love in his flag.  Done is the Missing, now all that remain  Is to sail forever, upon the stain  Cabin Fever! O o o' Cabin Fever!  The captain's free-hand is a clearer  which he fashions his beard'n'he rations his jerkey!  and carves his peg onto the finest mahagony!  Or was it Ebony? etc...  Tallys up his loneliness, notch by notch  For the sea offers nuthin to hold or touch  Notch by notch, winter by winter  Notch x notch, winter x winter  Now his leg is whittled, right down to a splinter  O o Cabin Fever! O o o Cabin Fever!  O the rollin sea still rollin on!  She's everywhere! now that she's gone! Gone! Gone!  O Cabin Fever! O Cabin Fever!  Welcome to his table, Beloved-Unconscious  Raisin her host of hair from her crooks  and strugglin to summony one of her looks!  His arm now like coild s-s-s-snakes  Whips all the bottles that he's drunken,  like crystal-skittles about the cabin,  of a ship they'd bin sailing  Five years sunken... etc..