Oh, ships may come and ships may go, As long as the seas do roll.
Each sailor lad, like wise his dad, He loves that flovin' boat.
On the last ashore he does adore One who's plump and round.
But when your money's all gone, It's the same old song,
Get up, Jack, don't sit down.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.
When Jack's ashore it's then he'll steer For some old boardin' house.
He's welcome in with rum and gin, Like boys on pork and scouse.
He'll lend and spend and he'll not offend Till he lies drunk on the ground.
But when your money's all gone, It's the same old song,
Get up, Jack, don't sit down.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.
It's then he'll sail aboard some ship For India or Japan.
In major there the ladies fare All of the sailor man.
He'll go ashore all on a tear And he'll buy some girl a gown.
But when your money's all gone, It's the same old song,
Get up, Jack, don't sit down.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.
But when your money's all gone, It's the same old song,
Get up, Jack, don't sit down.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.
When Jack gets old and weather beat, Too old to roam about,
They'll let him stomp in some rum shop, Till eight bells calls him out.
Then he'll raise his eyes up to the sky, Saying, boys, we're homeward bound.
But when your money's all gone, It's the same old song,
Get up, Jack, don't sit down.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, There's lots more grog in the jar.
With a plough, a briny ocean, With a jolly rovin' tar.