Farewell and adieu to you fine Spanish ladies,
Farwell and adieu all you ladies of Spain;
For we've received orders to sail for old England;
And perhaps we shall never more see you again.
We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll range and we'll roam over all the salt seas,
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of old England,
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues.
We hove our ship to when the wind was sou'west, boys,
We hove our ship to for to strike soundings clear,
Then we filled our maintopsail and bore right away, boys.
And right up the Channel our course we did steer.
The first land we made is known as the Dodman,
Next, Rame Head near Plymouth, Start, Portland, and Wight;
We passed by Beechy, by Fairleigh and Dungeness,
And hove our ship to, off South Foreland Light.
Then a signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor,
All in the Downs, that night for to meet
Then stand by your stoppers, let go your shank-painters,
Haul all your clew garnets, stick out tacks and sheets.
So let every man toss off a full bumper,
Let every man toss off his full bowls;
We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
Singing, here's good health to all true-hearted souls.