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Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain;
For we've received orders for to sail for ol' England,
But we hope in a short time to see you again.
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we take soundings in the Channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
We hove our ship to with the wind from the sou' west boys,
We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take;
'Twas forty-five fathoms, with a white sandy bottom,
So we squared off our main yard and up channel did make.
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we take soundings in the Channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
Now let every man drink off his full bumper,
And let every man drink off hiss full glass;
We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we take soundings in the Channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
The first land we sighted was called the Dodman,
Next Rame Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland then Wight;
We sailed on by Beachy, by Fairley and Dover,
And then we bore up for the South Foreland light.
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we take soundings in the Channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
Then the signal was made for the Grand Fleet to anchor,
And all in the Downs that night for to lie;
Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper!
Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly!
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we take soundings in the Channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
Now let every man drink off his full bumper,
And let every man drink off his full glass;
We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea.
Until we take soundings in the Channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
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