Oh, we must not grive, we must not grouse,
The steward, our friend is always near us,
For he has promised in hand to take us,
What so wind may blow, however we may cuss
For he has promised in hand to take us,
What so wind may blow, however we may cuss
Oh, we must not grieve, we must not grouse,
The wind-pump we have is at the tread-mill light,
Murmur'd grumbles you will rue, for the steward will catch you,
And now to reef the sail, for she's pumped dry.
Murmur'd grumbles you will rue, for the steward will catch you,
And now to reef the sail, for she's pumped dry.
Oh, we must not grieve, we must not grouse,
The steward has weighed out our bread, pork, and herring,
If this skipper's pleased, he'll let the rope-end fall,
We'll get extra victualing, every single night.
If this skipper's pleased, he'll let the rope-end fall,
We'll get extra victualing, every single night.