Blow, Boys, Blow!
Blow, me boys, I long to hear you. Blow, Boys, Blow! Oh, blow, me boys, and I long to hear you, Blow, me bully boys, Blow! A Yankee ship came down the river. Her spars were of gold and her masts were of silver. How d'you know she's a Yankee clipper? By thee blood and the guts that flow from her scuppers. How d'you know she's a Yankee liner? By the stars and the bars streaming out behind her. Who d'you think's the skipper of her? It's Boss-Eyed Billy the Bow'ry Bastard. And the cook was Jack, the Boston Beauty. The steward had to learn his duty. Who d'you think is the chief mate of her? Some ugly case who hates poor sailors. What do you think they had for supper? Oh, handspike hash and a roll in the scuppers. Her sides were old an her sails were rotten. His charts the Old Man had forgotten. You'll wish you all were dead and burried. And across the river let's all get ferried. Blow today and blow tomorrow. Blow for this hell ship all in sorrow.