SONG OF THE GALACTIC TRADER

(Tune: "Sixteen Tons", Tennessee Ernie Ford)

When I was a boy I knew my place
It was riding the tradelines way out in space
So I sold the farm that my ancestors made
Bought me a ship and I started to trade.

(CHORUS)	You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?
	A fifty crab* profit and a hundred crab debt
	Saint Dismas come and get me, I can't take no more
	Galactic trading is a hell of a bore!

You get to a planet and you pick up a load
But you got to keep moving down Hyperjump Road
You don't see no sights, you don't see no bar
These walls are all I've seen so far.

CHORUS
You get to a planet and you try to sell
A high grade computer to an ape who can't spell
Electrics underwater or shirts to trees
Is that any way to a life of ease?

CHORUS
And when you try to move on, it's oh so cruel
A ship comes cheaper than a tankful of fuel
My life support's lousy and my drive is shot
After ten years trading it's still all I got.

CHORUS
There's only one way out of this misery
I'll sell my ship and turn mercenary
I'll break any law and I'll grease any palm
And when I'm rich, I'll buy me a farm!

(CHORUS)	You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?
	A fifty crab profit and a hundred crab debt
	Saint Dismas come and get me, I can't take no more
	Galactic trading is a hell of a bore!
(Slower)	Saint Dismas come and get me, I can't take no more...
	Galactic trading is a hell of a bore!

*All planets trading on the interstellar market are required to make their basic unit of currency equal to the Sagittarian crab, or credit absolute. Thus the intrinsic value of goods and services may be easily determined and compared to a galactic standard, and financial calculations are enormously simplified, thus enabling accountants to devote more time to their preferred occupations of debt collection and enforcement. A few diehard planets remain outside the system, though avowing their intention of joining "when the time is ripe".