And winter gave it’s stormy blast ,
where’s sales were lost to their riggin masts ,
and souls were cast down upon the waves ,
never to be see. Or saved .

But as the sailor gripped his mast
his fingers now a mix of blood and grit  ,
for days without water or food  he went

Before the freezing waters lapped around his waste ,
and all he could hear were the cry’s of his men ,
begging for mercy before another wave swilled then again .

Forty days and nothing to drink ,
Forty days of rotting meat
Forty days a sailor ,
and all without Ezmerelda .

And they all  missed their wives and ******
or ***** who used to tie them
to the floor ,
but above all the women they loved the more ,
there was no one like Ezmerelda

And now the waters are all around ,
and our sailors fingers bleed as frost.bight  cuts off his fingers and toes ,
but all he ever thinks of his days with Ezmerelder .


and still he sings ,
Forty days with nothing to drink ,
Forty days of rotting meat
before the waters took him down