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!
2. What girl but loves the merry tar,
3. 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.
4. Our foes reduced, once more on shore,
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