Come, let's aboard, my jolly blades,
  That love a merry life;
To lazy souls leave home-bred trades,
  To husbands home-bred strife;
Through Europe we will gaily roam,
And leave our wives and cares at home.
  With a Fa la, &c.

If any tradesman broke should be,
  Or gentleman distress'd,
Let him away with us to sea,
  His fate will be redress'd:
The glorious thunder of great guns,
Drowns all the horrid noise of duns.
  With a Fa la, &c.

And while our ships we proudly steer
  Through all the conquer'd seas,
We'll shew the world that Britons bear
  Their empire where they please:
Where'er our sails are once unfurl'd,
Our king rules that part of the world.
  With a Fa la, &c.

The Spaniard with a solemn grace
  Still marches slowly on,
We'd quickly make him mend his pace,
  Desirous to be gone:
Or if we bend our course to France,
We'll teach Monsieur more brisk to dance.
  With a Fa la, &c.

At length, the world subdued, again
  Our course we'll homeward bend;
In women, and in brisk champagne,
  Our gains we'll freely spend:
How proud our mistresses will be
To hug the men that fought as we.
  With a Fa la, &c.