See you in the Shipwrights tonight, anybody? The last time we had a shanty session (last month) the place was packed. The time before there were only four of us, and six(bemused)audience! What will this evening bring? Off to sail the world yet again, life gets tedious, don't it?
NEW YORK GIRLS

Shanghaied to San Francisco, we fetched up in Bombay
They set us afloat on an old lease boat, that steered like a bale of hay
And away, you Santi, my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls, you love us for our money

We painted in the tropics, while the pitch boiled up on deck
We've saved our hides, little else besides, from an ice-cold North Sea wreck

We've drunk our rum in Portland; we've thrashed thru the Bering Straits
And we've toed the mark on a Yankee barque, with a hard case down-east mate

We know the quays of Glasgow, and the boom of the lone Azores
We've had our grub from a salt horse tub, condemned by the navy stores

We know the track to Auckland, and the light of Kinsale Head
And we crept close hauled while the leadsman called, the depth of the Channel bed

We know the streets of Santos, the river at Saigon
We've had our glass with a Chinee lass on a house boat in Canton

They'll pay us off in London, then it's oh for a spell ashore
Then again we'll ship for a southeron trip, in a week or hardly more

'Tis goodbye Sal & Lucy, 'tis time we were afloat
With a straw stuffed bed, and an aching head, a knife and an oilskin coat

Sing "Time for us to leave her". Sing "Bound for the Rio Grand"
When the tug turns back, we'll follow her track, for a last long look at the land

And when the purple disappears, and only blue is seen
That'll take our bones to Davy Jones & our souls to Fiddlers Green
And away, you Santi, my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls, you love us for our money

I've been told the grass needs cutting so the wife can get to hang the washing out, so i'ts back to reality for a bit
And they calls her hangin' washin'
Away, boys, away
The clothin' it needs dryin'
So hang, boys, hang