Row Bullies Row

The boardinghouse masters came aboard in a trice A shouting and a promising all that was nice Til one old crib took a liking to me Says he youre a fool, lad, to follow the sea And its row, row bullies row Says he theres a job as is waiting for you With lashings of liquor and beggar-all to do Says he what you say lad, will you? or two? Says I you old bastard, Im damned if I do And its row, row bullies row But the best of intentions they never goes far After thirty two days at the door of the bar I tossed off me liquor and what do you think That rotten old bastard had doctored me drink And its row, row bullies row Next I remember I woke in the morn On a the three skysail yarder bound south round Cape Horn With an old set of oilskins and two pair of socks And an IOU nailed to the lid of my box And its row, row bullies row Honeyed rum, a whiff of almond, and a hint of something suspiciously soporific.