Now the ship of state is sailing
On a cold tempestuous sea.
She's far out on the ocean
And she's crewed by you and me.
And we haul on the mainsail halyard
And, obeying each command,
We ask, "Is there but one of us
Can find for us some land?
A Commodore, a Commodore,
A Commodore, a Commodore!"
Oh, the Captain gives the orders
When he sees the changing sky -
The billowed sails are quickly reefed
And no one tells us why.
And no one thinks to ask him,
For he is in command
And he will never tell us
That our fate is in the hand
Of the Commodore, the Commodore,
The Commodore, the Commodore.
We've sailed for seven years
And only ocean have we seen
In shades of blue and grey
And all the colours in between.
And the singing of the rigging
Is the only music heard,
With the cursing of the bo'sun
But we never heard a word
Of the Commodore, the Commodore,
The Commodore, the Commodore.
And now the sun is rising
Casting shadows on the decks,
And we gaze upon the yardarm
And we see the broken necks,
And we ask, "Who gave the order?"
And then we turn and see his face.
Standing on the quarterdeck;
The silk and gold and lace
Of the Commodore, the Commodore,
The Commodore, the Commodore.
And the light shines all around him
And his face sets hard and stern,
And we fall upon our faces,
As he screams, "You never learn!"
And then he points a blinding finger
At those who wait to die,
As the oil below the ocean
Forms a fountain in the sky
For the Commodore, the Commodore,
The Commodore, the Commodore.