It is an ancient mariner
Who stoppeth one of three.
He killed the blessed albatross
When he was out to sea,
And the guilt it hangs about his neck,
The same as you and me,
Poor old sailor
Who shot the gentle bird.
I don't know why he shot him,
The silly gooney duck,
But if you shoot an albatross
You sure are out of luck,
For forever, ever, after
It will hang around your neck.
Poor old sailor
Who shot the gentle bird.
I also wear the albatross,
The bird of guilt I bear,
I shafted my best buddy
In a moment of despair,
And the guilt is always with me
In my dreams and everywhere.
Poor old sailor
Who shot the gentle bird.
Yet those that kill their thousands
With napalm in the street,
They live a good respected life
And sleep an easy sleep,
And they'd never shoot an albatross,
It isn't good to eat.
Poor old sailor,
Who shot the gentle bird.
So never kill a gooney bird
Or knife your loving kin,
And never burn a single soul,
Be sure it's more than ten,
And never do a stick-up
But gouge the world of men,
And leave bad dreams to sailors
Who kill the gentle bird.
