A poor old man came a-riding by
(And we say so! And we hope so)
Says I, “Old man, your horse will die”
(Oh, poor old horse!)
And if he dies we’ll tan his hide
But if he lives we’ll ride him again
For a month a rotten life we’ve led
While you’ve lain in your feather bed
But now that month is up, you jerk
Get up, you swine, and look for work
Get up, you swine, and look for graft
While we lays on, and yanks you aft
And after work and sore abuse
We’ll salt you down for sailor’s use
He’s as dead as a nail in the lamproom door
And he won’t come hazing us no more
We’ll hoist him up to the main yardarm
And drop him down to the bottom of the sea
We’ll sink him down with a long, long roll
Where the sharks‘ll have his body, and the Devil his soul