Spanish Ladies (From "Turn")

Farewell and adieu unto you Spanish ladies

Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain

For we have received orders to sail to old England

We hope in a short time to see you again

We'll rant, and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant, and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is 35 leagues

We hove our ship to, with the wind on South-west boys

We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take

'Twas 45 fathoms, with a white sandy bottom

So we squared our main yard and up channel did make

We'll rant, and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant, and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is 35 leagues

Now let every man drink off his full bumper

Let every man drink off his full glass

We'll drink and be jolly, and drown melancholy

And here's to the health of each truehearted lass

So we'll rant, and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant, and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is 35 leagues

The first land we sighted was called the Dodman

Next Ram Head off Plymouth, off Portland and Wight

We sailed then by Beachy, by Fairlee, and Dover

Then bore straight away for the South Foreland Light

We'll rant, and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant, and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is 35 leagues

The signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor

And all in the Downs that night for to lie

Let go your shank painter, let go your cat

Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly

We'll rant, and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant, and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is 35 leagues

Now let every man drink off his full bumper

And let every man drink off his full glass

We'll drink and be jolly, and drown melancholy

And here's to the health of each truehearted lass

We'll rant, and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant, and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is 35 leagues