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(old English folk tune; words by Charles Carryl, 1896)

(music to go here)

A capital ship for an ocean trip
    was the walloping Window Blind.
No ship that blew dismayed her crew
    or troubled the captain's mind.
The man at the wheel was made to feel
    contempt for the wildest blow-ow-ow,
Though it often appeared when the gale had cleared
    that he'd been in his bunk below.
    So, blow ye winds yo-ho! A-rovin' I will go!
    I'll stay no more on England's shore, so let the music play-ay-ay,
    I'm off for the morning train! I'll cross the raging main!
    I'm off to my love with a boxing glove ten thousand miles away!

The bo'sun's mate was very sedate
    though fond of amusement too,
For he played hopscotch with the starboard watch,
    but the captain he tickled the crew!
And the gunner we had was apparently mad
    for he sat on the after rail-ail-ail,
And fired salutes with the captain's boots
    in the teeth of the blooming gale!
    So, blow ye winds yo-ho! (etc.)

The captain sat on the commodore's hat
    and dined in a royal way
Off pickles and figs, and little roast pigs,
    and gunnery bread each day.
And the cook was Dutch and behaved as such
    for the diet he served the crew-ew-ew
Was a number of tons of hot cross buns
    served up with sugar and glue!
    So, blow ye winds yo-ho! (etc.)

Then we all fell ill as mariners will
    on a diet that's rough and crude.
And the vessel it shook as we dipped the cook
    in a tub of his gluesome food.
All nautical pride we cast aside
    as we ran the vessel ashore
On the Gulliby Isles, where the poo-poo smiles
    And the rubbily ubdugs roar!
    So, blow ye winds yo-ho! (etc.)

Composed of sand was that favored land
    and trimmed with cinnamon straws.
And pink and blue was the pleasing hue
    of the tickle-toe-teaser's claws.
We sat on the edge of a sandy ledge
    and shot at the whistling bee-ee-ee,
And the ringtailed bat wore waterproof hats
    as they dipped in the shining sea!
    So, blow ye winds yo-ho! (etc.)

On rugbug bark from morn till dark
    we dined till we all had grown
Uncommon shrunk, when a Chinese junk
    came up from the Torrible zone.
She was chubby and square, but we didn't much care,
    and we cheerfully put to sea-ea-ea,
And we left the crew of the junk to chew
    on the bark of the rugbug tree!
    So, blow ye winds yo-ho! (etc.)

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)