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From Yarmouth Harbour we set sail,
The wind was blowin' the devil of a gale;
All our ring tails set and our bafflin' was in peak,
And our dolphin striker is a-ploughin' up the deep.
With a big bow wow,
Tow row row,
Fol dee rol dee ride all day.
Our captain comes up from down below,
He looks aloft and he looks alow;
He looks alow and he looks aloft,
Sayin' coil those ropes, boys, fore and aft.
With a big bow wow,
Tow row row,
Fol dee rol dee ride all day.
Then back to his cabin he quickly crawls,
Unto his steward he loudly calls;
Go bring me a glass that will make me cough,
For it's better weather here than it is up aloft.
With a big bow wow,
Tow row row,
Fol dee rol dee ride all day.
It's we poor sailors standin' on the deck,
With the blasted rain pourin' down our necks;
Not a drop of grog will he to us afford,
But he damns our eyes with every other word.
With a big bow wow,
Tow row row,
Fol dee rol dee ride all day.
Now there's one thing we sailors crave,
For him to find a watery grave;
We'll shove him down in a dark deep hole,
Where the sharks will have his body, and the devil take his soul.
With a big bow wow,
Tow row row,
Fol dee rol dee ride all day.
