My hipbones click loudly wherever I walk,
The sailors all love me way out at the docks.
I’m nasty and dirty and mean as a dog,
Please tell me a tale from your captain’s log

Of typhoid and madness and Taiwanese whores,
Who charge you at first but then come back for more.
And the loved ones who greet you at your homeland’s shores,
Who later at night question your oozing sores.

“It’s scurvy,” you say, with a smirking grin,
But you will both know they’re the wages of sin.
Yet down at the docks there are no lonely men,
Just knock on my door and I’ll let you in.

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