| Our ship is a beautiful lady, Friendly and ready and fine; She runs her race with the storm in her face, Like a sea-bird over the brine. |
| In her household work no hand does shirk,— No need of belaying-pins,— And the captain dear and the engineer, They both look after the Twins: |
| The Twins that drive her to do her best Where the Roaring Forties rage From the Fastnet Height to the Liberty Light, And the Customs landing-stage. |
| Where the crank-shafts pitch in the iron ditch, Where the main-shaft swims and glides, Where the boilers keep, in the sullen deep, A master-hand on the Tides; |
| Where the reeking shuttle and booming bar Keep time in the hum of the toiling hive,— The men of the deep, while the travellers sleep, Their steel-clad coursers drive. |
| And Davy Jones’ locker is full Of the labour that moves the world; And brave they be who serve the sea To keep our flags unfurled: |
| The Union Jack and the Stripes and Stars, Gallant and free and true, In a world-wide trade, and a fame well made, And humanity’s work to do. |
| Now list, ye landsmen, as ye roam, To the voice of the men offshore, Who’ve sailed in the old ship Never Return, With the great First Commodore. |
| They fitted foreign (God keeps the sea), They stepped aboard (God breaks the wind). And the babe that held by his father’s knee, He leaves, with his lass, behind. |
| And the lad will sail as his father sailed, And a lass she will wait again; And he’ll get his scrip in his father’s ship, And he’ll sail to the Southern Main; |
| And he’ll sail to the North, and he’ll make to the East, And he’ll overhaul the West; And he’ll pass outspent as his father went From his landbirds in the nest. |
| There are hearts that bleed, there are mouths to feed, (Now one and all, ye landsmen, list) And the rent’s to pay on the quarter-day— (What ye give will never be missed) |
| And you’ll never regret, as your whistle you wet, In Avenue Number Five, That you gave your “quid” to the lonely kid And the widow, to keep ‘em alive. |
| So out with your golden shilling, my lad, And your bright bank-note, my dear! We are safe to-night near the Liberty Light, And the mariner says, What Cheer! |