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Cruising Round Yarmouth
Harry Cox
While cruisin' round Yarmouth one day for a spree,
I met a fair damsel—the wind blowing free.
"I'm a fast going
clipper"—"my kind sir", said she,
"I'm ready for cargo—my hold it is free."
Singing fal the ral laddie right fal the ral day,
Fal the ral laddie right
fal the ral day.
What country she came from I could not tell which,
By her appearance I
thought she was Dutch.
Her flag wore rich colours, her masthead was
low,
She was round at the quarter and bluff at the bow.
I gave her the rope and I took her in tow,
From yardarm to yardarm
a-towing we go.
We towed on together till we came to the Head,
We both
towed together through Trafalgary Bay.
We towed till we came to the House of Expire,
We gave her old horse with
plenty of ire.
I lift up her hatches found plenty of room,
And into her
cabin I stuck my jib-boom.
She took me upstairs and her topsails she lowered,
In a neat little
parlour she soon had me moored.
She laid in her foresails her staysails and all,
With her lily white hand
on my reef tackle fall.
I said Pretty fair maid it's time to give o'er,
Betwixt wind and water
you've ran me ashore.
My shot-locker's empty and powder's all spent,
I
can't fire a shot for it's choked at the vent.
Here's luck to the girl with the black curly locks,
Here's luck to the
girl who ran Jack on the rocks,
Here's luck to the doctor who eased all his
pain,
He's squared his mainyards, he's a-cruising again.
This kind of bawdy song, using seafaring terminology, is obviously popular
at the more rowdy type of locker-room gatherings, but, because of its
skilful double entendre it can also find itself landing up in mixed
company, that is, provided those ladies present are not too aufait with
such nautical matters.
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