Farewell and adieu, to you, Spanish Ladies.
Farewell and adieu, to you, ladies of Spain.
For we've received orders, to sail to old England.
We hope in a short time to see you again.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors.
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
We hove our ship to with the wind from sou'west, boys.
We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take.
'Twas forty-five fathoms,with a white sandy bottom,
So we squared our main yard and up channel did make.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors.
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five 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 true-hearted lass.
So we will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors.
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
The first land we sighted was called the Dodman.
Next Rame Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland and Wight;
We sailed then by Beach, by felly and Dover.（
And straight the way for the South Foreland light.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors.
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor.

Let go your shank painter, let go your cat.
Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly!
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors.
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
Now let ev'ry man drink off his full bumper.
And let ev'ry man drink off his full glass.
We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here's to the health of each true-hearted lass.
We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors.
We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt seas.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.