I met this man from Mokha Port
A coffee merchant of some sort
In a pub 4000 miles from home
Sittin’ in a bar, drawn, all alone
Poured drinks he’d never had before
Drunk up I still gave him more
A cup too much of spiced rum led
To a piece of bread and cheese in his head.
I’m (he’s) the one – to lift him up
I’m (he’s) the one – that filled his cup
I’m (he’s) the one – to this task stuck
I’m the one to carry him home!
I brought him on a boat offshore
Life’s not as joyful anymore
Among barrels of beans on a cargo ship
it would end up as his final trip
Through dark cloudy skies a ship appeared
With sails all black; we’re filled with fear
Their cannonballs and loaded guns
Would halt this young lad’s future runs
I’m (he’s) the one – to hear him beg
I’m (he’s) the one – to cut his leg
I’m (he’s) the one – to find a peg
I’m the one to carry him home!
One last time! I’ll do my part
One last time! Back to the start
One last time I lift him up
But this will be the last
One last time! Still one leg
One last time! In a coffin bed
One last time I’ll be the one
The one to carry him home!