A Modern Rosetta Stone: Deciphering the lyrics of the song: 'Here's Where the Story Ends', sung not by Harriet Wheeler of The Sundays but by pirate whores

Editor's note: Until now, this song has been a lyrical mystery. 

Studies have uncovered most of the lyrical content of a beloved, if oft-misunderstood song. 

We hope this sheds some light, perhaps squelches the moaning of those tireless enthusiasts who prowl the net for answers. (Following italics and bold our ours.) 

[strumming guitar in G, sparse bass, modest drums in 4/4]
 

People I know 

places I go 

'tis but a rough sea 

[strumming]

you love me not 

don't touch m' twat 

feels like an oak tree 

[strumming]

here's...

where...

the story ends 

[strumming]

senses alive 

can't feel m' eyes 

lucky to see me 

[strumming]

you love me not 

don't touch m' twat 

hear like a small flea 

[strumming]

here's...

where...

the story ends  

[strumming]

here's... 

where...

the story ends  

[strumming]

i am pretty fortunate 

for a buckled-down nut 

with heart and soul of gold 

well, we could have went to bed 

but for the books that you read 

were all I loved you for 

i am pretty fortunate 

for a buckled-down nut 

with heart that can't grow old 

i know why the lights are red 

porque es malo red 

 

surprise, surprise, surprise 

 [strumming]

crazy I know 

places I go 

make me feel so tired 

 [strumming]

I can see how 

people look down 

i'm on the outside

argh! 

 [strumming]

here's...

where...

the story ends  

 

arrrgghh! 

 [strumming]

here's...

where...

the story ends 

 [strumming]

it's that little souvenir 

from a terrible year 

which makes my eyes feel sore 

 

& whoever would've thought 

the books that you bought 

were all I loved you for yarr! 

 

the devil in me said 

g' down to th' shed 

Aye know where aye belong 

 

But th' only thin' aye ever really wanted t' saaaay 

'twas wrong, 

'twas wrong, 

'twas wrong... 

 

Editor's footnote: Due to the project's unresolved financial imbroglio and its questionable scientific merit, our experts abandoned all research before we could recover the remaining lyrics. We can only presume they've been lost to time. Thank you very much, Dr. Loren Nielsen, University of Colorado Anthropology Department.