Oh! it's up along and down along, and all along the Quay
There are five and twenty Sailormen just home and on the spree
All afire to spend their money,
in a land of milk and honey,
They are tired of stormy watches and the tossing of the Sea!

There are snug low ceiling'd parlours in the Tavern down the street
With their cellars full of liquor and their larders full of meat
There are tables white and shining
full of sailor folk a-dining
There is dancing in the gardens with the wenches trim and neat!

There are beds of down for sleeping Oh! the quiet dreamless sleep!
With no Bosun's whistle calling, with no watch for one to keep.
And to wake to sound of singing,
and the convent bells a-ringing
Not the tumult of the tempest and the thunder of the deep.

Oh! it's up along and down along, and all along the Quay
There are five and twenty Sailormen as glum as glum can be
They have squandered all their money,
and they're tired of milk and honey,
They have done with fun and feasting, and they're weary for the Sea!

They can hear the Sea a-calling and the fine Lands far away
And it's hoist the rusty anchor up and Sail as peep of day
There's a stiffish wind a-blowing
there's a strongish tide a-flowing
So it's put her head to Port-O'-Spain and out across the Bay!