Our ship is a beautiful lady,
          Friendly and ready and fine;
          She runs her race with the storm in her face,
          Like a sea-bird over the brine.

          In her household work no hand does shirk, ­
          No need of belaying-pins, ­
          And the captain dear and the engineer,
          They both look after the Twins: 

          The Twins that drive her to do her best
          Where the Roaring Forties rage
          From the Fastnet Height to the Liberty Light,
          And the Customs landing-stage.

          Where the crank-shafts pitch in the iron ditch,
          Where the main-shaft swims and glides,
          Where the boilers keep, in the sullen deep,
          A master-hand on the Tides;

          Where the reeking shuttle and booming bar
          Keep time in the hum of the toiling hive, ­
          The men of the deep, while the travellers sleep,
          Their steel-clad coursers drive.

          And Davy Jones’ locker is full
          Of the labour that moves the world;
          And brave they be who serve the sea
          To keep our flags unfurled: 

          The Union Jack and the Stripes and Stars,
          Gallant and free and true,
          In a world-wide trade, and a fame well made,
          And humanity’s work to do.

          Now list, ye landsmen, as ye roam,
          To the voice of the men offshore,
          Who’ve sailed in the old ship Never Return,
          With the great First Commodore.

          They fitted foreign (God keeps the sea),
          They stepped aboard (God breaks the wind). 
          And the babe that held by his father’s knee,
          He leaves, with his lass, behind.

          And the lad will sail as his father sailed,
          And a lass she will wait again;
          And he’ll get his scrip in his father’s ship,
          And he’ll sail to the Southern Main;

          And he’ll sail to the North, and he’ll make to the East,
          And he’ll overhaul the West;
          And he’ll pass outspent as his father went
          From his landbirds in the nest.

          There are hearts that bleed, there are mouths to feed,
          (Now one and all, ye landsmen, list)
          And the rent’s to pay on the quarter-day ­
          (What ye give will never be missed)

          And you’ll never regret, as your whistle you wet,
          In Avenue Number Five,
          That you gave your “quid” to the lonely kid
          And the widow, to keep ’em alive.

          So out with your golden shilling, my lad,
          And your bright bank-note, my dear! 
          We are safe to-night near the Liberty Light,
          And the mariner says, What Cheer!