| Lyrics: | Leave her Johnny
O the times are hard and the wages low,
Leave her, Johnny, leave
her!
I think it's time for us to go!
An' it's time for us to leave her!
Leave
her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!
For the voyage is done an' the
winds don't blow,
An' it's time for us to leave her!
O I thought I heard the old man
say,
Tomorrow ye will get your pay!
It's Liverpool Pat with his tarpaulin
hat,
It's Yankee John the packet rat.
It's rotten beef an' weev'ly bread,
It's
pump or drown the old man said.
The wind was foul an' the sea ran high,
She shipped
it green an' none went by.
We'd be better off in a nice clean gaol,
With all night
in an' plenty o' ale!
The mate was a bucko an' the old man a turk,
The bosun was a
beggar with the middle name o' work!
It's growl yer may an' go yer must,
It matters
not whether yer last or furst!
The cook's a drunk, he likes to booze,
&'tween him
an' the mate there's little to choose!
I hate to sail on this rotten tub,
No grog
allowed and rotten grub!
The ship won't steer, or stay, or wear,
An' so us
shellbacks learnt to swear.
No Liverpool bread, nor rotten crackerhash,
No
dandyfunk, nor cold an' sloppy hash.
The old man shouts, the pumps stand by,
Oh, we
can never suck her dry.
Now I thought I hear the old man say,
Just one more pull an'
then belay.
We swear by rote for want o' more,
But now we're through so we'll go on
shore.
@sailor
filename[ LEAVEHER
play.exe LEAVEHER
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