Written by Jacques Brel - Performed by David Bowie. . In the port of Amsterdam. There's a sailor who sings. Of the dreams that he brings. From the wide open sea. In the port of Amsterdam. There's a sailor who sleeps. While the river bank weeps. To the old willow tree. In the port of Amsterdam. There's a sailor who dies. Full of beer full of cries. In a drunken town fight. In the port of Amsterdam. There's a sailor who's born. On a hot muggy morn. By the dawn's early light. In the port of Amsterdam. Where the sailors all meet. There's a sailor who eats. Only fish heads and tails. And he'll show you his teeth. That have rotted too soon. That can haul up the sails. That can swallow the moon. And he yells to the cook. With his arms open wide. "Hey bring me more fish. Throw it down by my side". And he wants so to belch. But he's too full to try. So he stands up and laughs. And he zips up his fly. . In the port of Amsterdam. You can see sailors dance. Paunches bursting their pants. Grinding women to porch. They've forgotten the tune. That their whiskey voice croaked. Splitting the night. With the roar of their jokes. And they turn and they dance. And they laugh and they lust. Till the rancid sound of the accordion bursts. And then out of the night. With their pride in their pants. And the sluts that they tow. Underneath the street lamps. In the port of Amsterdam. There's a sailor who drinks. And he drinks and he drinks. And he drinks once again. He'll drink to the health. Of the whores of Amsterdam. Who've given their bodies. To a thousand other men. Yeah they've bargained their virtue. Their goodness all gone. For a few dirty coins. Well he just can't go on. Throws his nose to the sky. And he aims it up above. And he pisses like I cry. On the unfaithful love. In the port of Amsterdam. In the port of Amsterdam.