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.