When storms come up he sighs and groans,
And that is the singing of Davy Jones.
His chest is full of dead men’s bones,
And that is the locker of Davy Jones.
Davy is Welsh you may hear by his tones,
For a regular Welsher is Davy Jones.
Whenever a fish gets drowned, he moans,
So tender-hearted is Davy Jones.
Thousands of ships the old man owns,
But none go a-sailing for Davy Jones.