Old Stormy was a fine old man
Ch: To me way, O, Storm-along!
Old stormy was a fine old man
Ch: Way, hay, hay, Mister Stormalong!
Old Stormy he is dead and gone,
Oh, poor old Stormy's dead and gone.
We'll dig his grave with a silver spade,
We'll dig his grave with a silver spade.
And lower him down with a golden chain.
And lower him down with a golden chain.
I wish I was old Stormy's son;
I'd build me a ship of a thousand ton,
I'd sail this wide world round and round;
With plenty of money I'd be found.
I'd fill her up with New England rum,
And all my shellbacks they'd have some.
O Stormy's dead and gone to rest;
Of all the sailors he was the best.
He slipped his cable off Cape Horn;
Our sails was split and our mainmast gone.
So we sunk him under a long, long roll,
We sunk him under a long, long roll.
I wish I was old Stormy's son
Ch: To my way-ay, Storm-along John!
I wish I was old Stormy's son
Ch: Ha, ha, come along, get along, Stormy along John!
I'd give those sailors lots of rum
O was you ever in Quebec?
A-stowing timber on the deck?
I wish I was in Baltimore.
On the grand old American shore.