The Tin Whistle Menagerie

We set sail that day on the fourth of may in our submarine made of clay

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The engines were hot the dogs name was spot and the cargo we had was a lot

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They told us to stay and wait in the bay but with a submarine I dear say

,

we must play.

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So we picked up the anchor and strolled past the tanker as silent as an investment banker

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As the water grew deeper our spirits grew cheaper and we forgot to push ‘way the grim reaper

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Now every night I sing what I write in hopes that you’ll hear what I say and make sure you stay behind that tanker in the bay

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