Completely different lyrics in Rod McKuen's version of The Port of Amsterdam:

In the port of Amsterdam, where the wild seagulls fly
There's a sailor who stands, looking out past the sky
And the arch of his back, and the thrust of his hip
Are as strong and as proud as the prow of a ship
In the port of Amsterdam, there's a sailor who's face
Is as withered and cracked, as a cobblestone street
And another who's face, is as fair as the Christ
Who visits the sailors, that rot in the deep

In the port of Amsterdam, there are sailors in pairs
Who's only adventures are climbin' up stairs
They're climbing up stairs, and descending again
In houses and hotels from china to Maine
In the port of Amsterdam, there's a sailor I'm told
Who at 26 years looks withered and old
In the bellies of whores he's spilled out his youth
On the long run to nowhere, in search of the truth

In the port of Amsterdam, there's a one legged man
Who used to go sailing but no longer can
His tales of the sea, grow wilder each year
As his guts sail along on a belly of beer
And he yells to the sailor who's sitting alone
"for a bottle of beer, I'll follow you home
And we find us some women who smell like the sea
A blonde one for you and a black one for me"

In the port of Amsterdam, I stood in the dawn
As accordions died and the daylight came on
I see the blank faces of sailors go by
Empty and wild as the wide open sky
And I cry to the god, wherever he be
Who invites the young men, to follow the sea
And leave them alone like a hollowed out shell
Condemned to burn up on the seashores of hell

In the port of Amsterdam
In the port of Amsterdam
In the port of Amsterdam
In the port of Amsterdam
Goddamn Amsterdam