Our ship is rolling in the wind,
And I've no love of sailin.
I long to be back home on land
And to put an end to wailin.
So raise those tattered sails once more,
If I get home, I'll stay on shore.
They told my I should seek the sea
And search the world for riches,
But now I'm on this leaky tub
With salt water in my britches.
Our Captain's voice is harsh and deep,
The first mate's full of warning.
They have me swabbing all the decks
At five o'clock each morning.
The cook is fat and smells of grease,
He gives us scanty rations.
And I have gotten very ill
On foods from many nations.
Weve chased the whales around Cape Horn
And trolled the North Atlantic.
Our entertainment is bad rum,
Ansd scurvey's not romantic.
The girls in port all treat us nice.
They give us love for money.
And, when we leave, they wave goodbye
And wait for their next honey.
The waves are washing on the deck.
The ship is creaking badly,
And if I live just one more day,
I'll leave the sea quite gladly
But once the sailor has been back on land for a month,
He might say,
And now that I am back on land,
I miss the surging ocean.
But I'll depend on that steam train
To be my loco-motion.