And a sigh for some old shipmate gone the way that all men go,
And there's little need to wonder at a grumble now and then,
For the ships must have their growl out, just the same as sailormen.
And they yarn along together just as jolly as you please,
Lordly liner, dingy freighter rusty-red from all the seas,
Of their cargoes and their charters and their harbours East and West,
And the coal-hulk at her moorings, she is yarning with the best,
Telling all the same tales over many and many a time she's told,
In a voice that's something creaky now because she's got so old,
Like some old broken sailorman when drink has loosed his tongue