Men like us like foreign lands. We pound in spikes with our bare hands. Our skills are always in demand.
We like our faces hairy and our backsides tanned. Men like us have the upper hand.
We cut through trees with the sharpest saw. We sail from here to Bogota. This vessel won’t have a single flaw.
We’ll ignore that thing called Murphy’s Law. Men like us like a last hoorah.
The sun and stars will be our guide. We prefer our steak bloody rare inside. Our sails are filled with wind and pride. Explore the world ------------–
well at least we tried. Men like us like rum. Rum! Bundaberg Rum