I am a brisk and sprightly lad,
But just come home from sea, sir.
Of all the lives I ever led,
A sailor's life for me, sir.
Yeo, yeo, yeo,
Whilst the boatswain pipes all hands,
With a yeo, yeo, yeo!
What girl but loves the merry tar,
We o'er the ocean roam, sir.
In every clime we find a port,
In every port a home, sir.
But when our country's foes are nigh,
Each hastens to his guns, sir.
We make the boasting Frenchman fly,
And bang the haughty Dons, sir.
Our foes reduced, once more on shore,
And spend our cash with glee, sir.
And when all's gone we drown our care,
And out to sea again, sir.
Yeo, yeo, yeo,
Whilst the boatswain pipes all hands,
With a yeo, yeo, yeo!