The Captain's fore-arm like bunched-up rope. with A-N-I-T-A wrigglin' free on a skull'n'dagger. and a portrait of Christ nailed to an anchor. etched into his upper.... O o o' Cabin Fever!. O o o' Cabin Fever!. 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 scrapbook stuck up with clag. and a morbid lump of Love in his flags.. 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 cleaver. which he fashions his beard n' he rations his jerkey!. and carves his peg outa the finest mahagony!. Or was it Ebony? etc.... . Tallies 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 coiled s-s-s-snakes. Whips all the bottles that he's drunken. like crystal - skittles about the cabin. of a ship they'd been sailing. . Five years sunken... etc....