The Legend of Davy Jones

Some say he steers a spectral ship
That’s ghostly, grey, and grand
He’s doomed to sail the seven seas
And never set foot on land
And if you chance to see him
You’ll soon be dead from fright
So sailors tell their children
On a dark and stormy night
Forty fathoms deep he walks
With rusty keys
His locker locks
Just he’s like he’s half asleep
He stalks
Forty fathoms deep
Forty fathoms deep he owns
Each sleeping sailor’s soggy bones
The legend they call Davy Jones
At forty fathoms deep
Nor east we sail to Brimstone head
The captian, crew, and I
At sixteen knots we fairly flew
Beneath a darkening sky
A top the main mast I rode
Near ten stories high
Went up there blew an icy quarrel
And overboard went I
Forty fathoms deep he walks
With rusty keys
His locker locks
Just he’s like he’s half asleep
He stalks
Forty fathoms deep
Forty fathoms deep he owns
Each sleeping sailor’s soggy bones
The legend they call Davy Jones
At forty fathoms deep
I hold my breath I say a prayer
For all thoes mates who died
I turn my back on Davy Jones
And cast my fears aside
Raise up my head
And kick my feet
And toward the light I go
The heartless jailer laft behind
The locker far below
Forty fathoms deep he walks
With rusty keys
His locker locks
Just he’s like he’s half asleep
He stalks
Forty fathoms deep
Forty fathoms deep he owns
Each sleeping sailor’s soggy bones
The legend they call Davy Jones
At forty fathoms deep
Forty fathoms deep he walks
With rusty keys
His locker locks
Just he’s like he’s half asleep
He stalks
Forty fathoms deep
Forty fathoms deep he owns
Each sleeping sailor’s soggy bones
The legend they call Davy Jones
At forty fathoms deep