And I cannot get a skipper for to answer to my hail.
So as no one me engages,
Why, of course, my bit o’ wages
I’d saved up for a rainy day is bound to quickly go;
And my hopes, I own, is sinking,
For I somehow can’t help thinking
That I shan’t get the chance again to sing out “Yo, heave ho!”
Yes, the times is changed completely since I first sailed on the ocean,
For then a British ship, you see, was worked by British tars,
And every British skipper would have scoffed the very notion