There are some that’s bound fer New York town, an’ some that’s bound fer France, Heave away, me Johnnies, Hea-ea-ea-ea-eave away! An’ there’s some that’s bound fer Bengal Bay. It’s a long trip, I’m tellin’ yer now! Heave away me Joh-ohnny boy. We’re all bound to go!
All me days I bin a rover, boys, an’ now we’re bound away. Ses she, I’ll always be faithful to you, if only with me you will stay.
Our advance pay’s in our pocket, boys. It sure will take us afar. So let us cruise down the Lime Street, me boys, an’ head fer American Bar.
Fer termorro’ we are outward bound, an’ down the Mersey we’ll slip. The gals will all be asmartin’ fer us until we return the next trip.
Now the pilot he’s awaitin’ fer the risin’ of the tide. An’ then, me gals, we’ll be back again, with a good an’ westerly wind.
So, fare well to you, me Kingston gal, fare well St. Andrew’s Dock. If ever we come back again we’ll make yer cradles rock!
So, come on all yer hard workin’ sailer men, who round the Cape will go. Be sure yer boots an’ oil skins are on, or ye’ll wish yer niber bin borne!
