Poll put her arms a-kimbo,
At the admiral's house looked she,
To thoughts that were in limbo,
She now a vent gave free.
So while they cut their raw salt junks,
With dainties you'll be crammed,
Here's once for all my mind, old hunks,
Port Admiral, you be d----d.
Chorus.--So once for all our mind, old hunks,
Port Admiral you be d----d.