Haul Away the Bowline, Boys

Written by our ship’s cook Sam Manella whilst in his bunk with food poisoning.



Haul away the bowline boys, haul away today

Haul away the bowline boys, we’re here to make your pay

Never mind the weather boys, haul away today

Haul away the bowline boys, get crackin’ on your way


God has laid his table out, we all know where we sit

The Captain’s in the carver chair, the First Mate’s at his hip

The Bosun’s by the fireside, the Surgeon’s tucked up warm

And we’re all on the upper deck, fighting through the storm




Kitty’s in the Market Place, Maude is in the town

When we get to port again, we’ll dance them ladies round

When we’ve had our fun ashore, our money spent, so free

We’ll pack our bags, be off again, once more on the sea




Me mother often told me, when I was just a lad

Never go to sea me boy, you’ll end up old and sad

You’ll spend your life upon a ship, so little on the shore

A gypsy of the waves me lad, don’t go to sea no more




I went on board a thinking, that I would see the world

Riches an’ good fortune, all would be unfurled

But many years of sailing ‘as taught one thing to me

All men are born equal, ‘cept scurvy dogs like me



Ch…. Repeat**


** (on last refrain, replace last line

“the old man said belay”)