From Boston Harbour we set sail When it was blowin' the devil of a gale With the ring-tail set all avast the mizzen peak And Rule Britannia ploughin' up the deep With a big bow-wow! Tow-row-row! Fol de rol de ri do day! Then up come the skipper from down below It's "Look aloft, lads, look alow!" And it's "Look alow!" and it's "Look aloft!" And "Tie up your ropes, lads, fore and aft!" With a big bow-wow! Tow-row-row! Fol de rol de ri do day! Then down to his cabin well he quickly crawls To his poor old steward bawls "Go and mix me a glass that will make me cough For it's better weather here than it is on top" With a big bow-wow! Tow-row-row! Fol de rol de ri do day! Now there's one thing that we have to crave: That the captain meets with a watery grave So we'll throw him down into some dark hole Where the sharks'll have his body and the devil have his soul With a big bow-wow! Tow-row-row! Fol de rol de ri do day!