Ho! Heave the anchor! Heave! Fetch her up!
Twist! with the corkscrews! Steward, lend a hand!
Let her prance out to sea like a frolic-footed pup,
For the ship is full of liquor, and to hell with the land!
Ghosts from the ocean abysses, clambering, clamour-
ing, come;
Climb to our decks and roar: “Broach us a puncheon
of rum!
We are scaly with salt and sand; we've had nothing
but water to swallow—
Stave in a hogshead of rum! Let us roll in the
scuppers and wallow!”

Heh! Splice the main-brace! Ho! She smells the
gale!
The shipper walks the bridge with a bottle to his eye;
She rollicks with her boilers full of good Bass Ale—
By the timber peg of Silver, the sea shall not go dry!
We have raxed 'em out of the deep, they follow
through shine and fog,
Phantoms of ancient mariners, lured by the reek
of our grog;
Noah and Hawkins and Kidd, up from the green
abysses,
And there, in a wine-stained galley, the ghost of
great Ulysses!
Eric the Red in a whale-boat, and with him, cheek
by jowl,
Silver begging a drain, God bless his wicked soul!
Ho! How she snorts! Hey! Hear her snore!
The wind slaps her nostrils, she hiccoughs for her
breath!
Steward, a corkscrew! You poor fish ashore,
By the bones of Reuben Ranzo, you can choke to
death!
With eyes of the darting witch-fire, like mist the
poor ghosts come,
And an anguished wind from the mist bellows and
whines for Rum—
They have been thirsty so long! Let us be good
fellows still,
And open a hundred casks and let 'em wallow and
swill!
Quick! With a corkscrew! Oh, damn the wheel!
The captain's in his hunk, with a bottle to his eye!
The engineer is stoking with Scotch and lemon 'peel!
By Davy Jones's locker, the sea shall not go dry!