F E Haunches bursting their pants, binding woman to paunch. They've forgotten the tune that their whiskey voice croaks. And they're aplitting the night with the roar of their jokes. To the rats it sounds of the accordion burst. Then it's out into the night with their pride in their pants.
F E Am With a slut that they tow underneath the street lamps.
In the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who drinks. He drinks to the health of the whores of Amsterdam. Who have promised their love to a thousand other men. For a few dirty coins. And he splits like I cry for an unfaithful love.