Hey don't yer see that black cloud a-risin'?
'Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe!
Hey don't yer see that black cloud a-risin'?
'Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe!

Naow whin Oi wuz a little boy an' so me mother told me,
'Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe!
That if Oi didn't kiss the gals me lips would all grow mouldy.
'Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe!

An' Oi sailed the seas for many a year not knowin' what Oi wuz missin',
Then Oi sets me sails afore the gales an' started in a-kissin'.

Naow first Oi got a Spanish gal an' she wuz fat an' lazy,
An' then Oi got a [Negro] tart-she nearly druv me crazy.

Oi found meself a Yankee gal an' sure she wasn't civil,
So Oi stuck a plaster on her back an' set her to the Divil.

Sheepskin, pitch, an' beeswax, they make a bully plaster;
The more she tried ter git it off it only stuck the faster.

Then Oi got meself an Oirish gal an' her name wuz Flannigan,
She stole me boots, she stole me clothes, she pinched me plate an' pannikin.

Oi courted then a Frenchie gal, she took things free an' aisy,
But naow Oi've got an English gal an' sure she is a daisy.

So list while Oi sing ter yer about me darlin' Nancy,
She's copper-bottomed, clipper-built, she's jist me style an' fancy.

Ye may talk about yer Yankee gals an' round-the-corner-Sallies,
But they couldn't make the grade, me bhoys, wid the gals from down our alley.

We sailed away for the China Seas, our bhoys so neat an' handy,
The Ould Man in his cab'n, bhoys, a-drinkin' rum an' brandy.

We loaded for the homeward run, all hands so free an' aisy,
And in his galley sat the doc, a-makin' plum-duff graisy.

We squared our yards an' away we rolled, with the fiddles playin' handy,
Wid a roll 'n' go, an' a westward ho, an' a Yankee Doodle Dandy.

Oh, King Louis wuz the King o' France, afore the revolution,
But the people cut his big head orf an' spoiled his constitution.

Then they sent the King away ter sea, to larn him how ter swim,
They sent him wid a Bluenose mate who put a squarehead on him.

Oh, once Oi wuz in Oireland a-diggin' turf an' taties,
But naow Oi'm on a Limejuice ship an' a-haulin' on the braces.

Saint Patrick wuz a gintleman, an' he come of daycent paypul,
He built a church in Dublin town an' on it set a staypul.

From Oireland thin he druv the snakes, then drank up all the whisky,
This made him dance an' sing an' jig, he felt so fine an' frisky.

He held High Mass for forty days before he blessed the staypul,
He held High Mass, 'twas a sorry pass, but he couldn't fool the paypul.

Yiz call yerself a second mate an' cannot tie a bowline,
Ye cannot even stand up straight when the packet she's a-rollin'.