At the Blackwall Docks we bid adieu
To Kate and Polly and Sal and Sue.
Our anchor's weighed and the sails unfurled,
We've bound outway across the world,
Hoorah we're outward bound,
Hoorah we're outward bound.

The wind it blows from east-nor'east,
Our ships she sails nine knots at least.
And the girls stand on the docks and cry.
While there's grog we'll ne'er say die,
Hoorah we're outward bound,
Hoorah we're outward bound.

At last the captain comes aboard,
Our sails are bent and we're manned and stored.
And the Peter's hoisted at the fore,
Goodbye to the girls we'll see no more,
Hoorah we're outward bound,
Hoorah we're outward bound.

One day the man on the lookout,
“There's a sail to the wind'ard,“ he will shout,
She's a pilot standing out from the land
And it's up on deck comes every man.
Hoorah we're homeward bound,
Hoorah we're homeward bound.

Now when we get to the Blackwall docks
Them pretty young girls come down in flocks.
And one to the other you'll hear 'em say,
“Oh, here comes Jack with his ten months pay.
For I see you're homeward bound,
I see you're homeward bound.”

And when we get to the Dog and Bell
Where there's good pizon for to sell,
In comes old Grouser with a smile,
Saying, “Drink my lads, it's worth your while,
For I see you're homeward bound,
Hoorah we're homeward bound.”

But when your money's all gone and spent,
And there's none to be borrowed and none to be lent,
In comes old Grouser with a frown,
Saying, “Get up, Jack, let John sit down,
For I see you're outward bound,
Hoorah we're outward bound.”

Then poor old Jack must understand
The ships in the docks are wanting hands.
So he ups his gear as he's done before
And he says goodbye to his native shore
For he is outward bound,
Hoorah we're outward bound.

This damsel was brought up to read and to write,
But this damsel was never brought up for to fight,
But being gallant-ly dressed in her royal estate,
She shipp'd on board of the Union as mate.

Where she served a twelve-month, a twelve-month or more,
Till at last we grew close to the old England Shore
There we saw a French pirate lying down by the main,
And it caused us to hoist up our taps'ls again.

We hoisted our tops'ls and bore down alongside,
But the first salutation we got was a broadside,
We gave them another just as hot as they sent
Now for to link each other was our full intent

This first salutation our captain was slain
And this damsel was chosen, master to remain

Lines missing

Then she fought this French pirate for hours severe,
Till she scarcely had a man on her deck that could steer,
Till she scarcely had a man that could handle a gun
While the blood from her scuppers like water did run

For quarters, for quarters, this French Turk did cry;
But 'No quarters, No quarters!" this damsel replied.
You've had all the quarters that I can afford
You must fight, sink or swim, or die by the sword!

Now come all you ladies gay, what robs sailors of their pay,
And list' while I sing this tarry tune,
When Jack Tar he comes ashore, with his gold an' silver store,
There's no one can get rid o' it so soon.

Now the first thing he demands is a fiddler to his hand,
A bottle of Nelson's Blood so stout an' warm.
And a pretty gal likewise with two dark an' rollin' eyes,
An' he'll drop his anchor an' never more will roam.

Then the landlady she comes in with her brand new crinoline,
She looks like some bright an' flashin' star,
An' she's ready to wait on him, if his pockets are lined with tin,
An' to chalk his score on the board behind the bar.

Then she calls a pretty maid, right-handed an' soft-laid,
An' up aloft they climb without much bother,
An' she shortens in her sail for a weatherin' of the gale,
An' soon in the tiers they're moored quite close together.

Then he shifted her main tack an' he caught her flat aback,
They rolled from the lee to the weather,
An' he laid her close 'longside, oh, closehauled as she would lie,

'Twas tack an' tack through hell an' stormy weather.

But his money soon was gone, an' his flash gal soon had flown,
She roamed along the Highway for another,
An' the landlady cried, "Pay yer score an' git outside,
Yer cargo's gone an' you've met stormy weather."

Then poor ol' Jack must understand that there's ships a-wantin' hands,
And to the Shadwell Basin he went down,
And he shipped away forlorn on a passage round the Horn,
Goodbye to the boys an' the flash gals of the town.