Boston Harbor
From Boston Harbor we set sail.
The wind was blowin' up a devil of a gale.
With the ringtail set abaft the mizzen peak
And our dolphin striker ploughin' through the deep.
Ch: With a bing, bow-wow
Tow-row-row
Fal-di-ral, di-ri-do-day
Now it's up comes the captain from down below
It's look aloft and its look a-low
It's look a-low and look aloft
And it's "Coil up your ropes boys fore and aft!"
Chorus
Then down to his cabin he quickly crawls,
And for his poor old steward he bawls.
Crying, "Mix me a glass that will make me cough,
For it's better weather here than it is up aloft!"
Chorus
There is just one thing we sailors crave:
That our skipper meets with a watery grave.
Where we'll throw him down into some dark hole,
Where the sharks can have his body and the devil have his soul.
Chorus
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