When Im discharged at Liverpool n draws my bit o pay,
I wont come to sea no more;
Ill court a pretty little lass n have a weddin day,
N settle somewhere down shore;
Ill never fare to sea again a-temptin Davy Jones,
A-hearkening to the cruel sharks a-hungerin for my bones;
Ill run a blushin dairy-farm or go a-crackin stones,
Or buy n keep a little liquor-store &mdash
So he said.
They towed her in to Liverpool, we made the hooker fast,
And the copper-bound official paid the crew,
And Billy drew his money, but the money didnt last,
For he painted the alongshore blue, &mdash
It was rum for Poll, and rum for Nan, and gin for Jolly Jack;
He shipped a week later in the clothes upon his back;
He had to pinch a little straw, he had to beg a sack
To sleep on, when his watch was through, &mdash
So he did.
