Now Zorba was a friend of mine
he loved the dance and he loved the wine
and there never was a better brother born
I found him or he found me,
whichever it was in a storm at sea,
he sang his song and told me of the war-
And he’d once been a lumberjack,
sailor, soldier and a diamond rat and that
hand I shook was callused and well worn.
The storm it swelled as we had a drink-
I let it burn, and he began to sing
in this voice that matched our steamship’s silver horn:

"Da ya ya da da da, Da ya ya da da da, Da ya ya da da da daaaa"

We landed on the shores of Crete,
an Englishman and trusty Greek
and quickly me and Zorba hatched a plan
When I was young my father died
and left me with this diamond mine
that with some sweat could make us both rich men
So Off went Zorba to the town
to buy those things that lift the ground
and make the diamonds fall into our hands
With ever dollar I had brought
that Zorba went to town and he bought
wine and booze and whores and girls to dance
… and he was singin’

[CHORUS]

A turncoat friend and a lowdown thief,
a wolf in wool I shoulda seen,
but St. Peter even sometimes calls em wrong
so remember every word I speak
in case you ever meet this Greek
say Zorba just leave me the hell alone
then he’ll look you square in your eye
and tell again that bastard’s lie
that in his life there’s not a man he’s wronged
and don’t you let him buy your drink
cuz when he does he’s gonna make you sing
and even Job could not resist this song