I find variants intriguing, and felt there was room for a deep-sea version of this wonderful old tune. With a tip of the hat to The Bushwackers, one of my all time favourite Aussie bands.

KINGS OF THE WESTERN OCEAN
(Words: A. Latimer. Melody: trad.)

We're kings of the Western Ocean. It's plain to see we are.
We've left our mark on many a bark. We stink of pitch and tar.
"All hands," cries the mate and up aloft we fly.
The devil take the laggard, Jack. It's do your best or die.

The captain turns and looks aloft. The mate he does likewise.
Nothing's said, just the nod of the head and the movement of their eyes.
With topsails backed and rode hove short, she slowly bears away.
"Beware the calm before the storm," the shellbacks often say.

Now you've heard the tales of races sailed, of the Aerial and Taeping,
Of Thermopylae and Cutty Sark. They make the rafters ring;
But many's the time in foreign climes the race for life was won
By a daring claw from a dead lee shore or a pirate's threatening gun.

The captain and the mate have schemes of more sails yet to set.
You can tell by the look on the face of the cook what's riding on the bet.
To sail a ship at a hell of a clip through icebergs is insane.
"All hands on deck," the mate calls down and here we go again.

The arrival scene's a lively one and ought to be admired.
No ship's done a better run since Bully Hayes expired.
Along the quay, the girls all smile and the crimps all turn away.
Now you can talk. You're the cock o' the walk. Enjoy it while you may.


That is from

www.tonylatimer.com/crits/debruyncrit.htm