Jim & Betty Bennette

From Boston Harbor we set sail,

The wind did blew a devil of a gale;

With our ring-tail set all about the peak,

And a Rule Brittania boys flying up the deep

CHORUS:  Derry down, down;  Down Derry down.

The Captain comes up from down below,

It’s lay aloft lads, looks alow,

It’s look alow and he looks aloft,

And it’s “tighten up your ropes, lads, for and aft.” (Chorus)

Well down to his cabin then he crawls,

And to his poor old steward bawls;

“Go fetch me a drink that will make me cough,”

“Cause it’s warmer down here than it is up aloft.”  (Chorus)

While we poor sailors on the decks,

With the blasted rain falling down our necks,

Not a drop of grog would he afford,

But he damned our eyes at every other word.  (Chorus)

Now there’s just one thing that we do crave,

That our Captain meets with a watery grave,

We’ll throw him down into some dark hole,