In the Blackball Line I served me time,
Timmi! Way, hey, hey, hurrah, yo!
In the Blackball line I wasted me prime.
Hurrah, for the Blackball Line.
Blackball ships are good an’ true,
They are the ships for me an’ you.
Oh we’re off Cape Horn with the main skys’l set,
We’re off Cape Stiff an’ we’re all wringin wet.
Oh, it’s fourteen knots with the wind abaft,
An’ it’s stand by the halliards fore an’ aft.
In the Blackball Line you must rise an’ shine,
In the Blackball Line you will always be fine.
Oh, the Blackball Line is the line for me,
It’s the finest line that sails the sea.
If yer wish to find a real goldmine,
Just take a trip in the Blackball Line.
Yankee sailors ye’ll see there,
With red-topped boots an’ short-cut hair.
There’s Liverpool Pat with his tarpaulin hat,
An’ Paddy Magee the Packet Rat.
They’ll carry ye along through the ice an’ snow,
They’ll take ye where the winds don’t blow.
I’ve seen Blackball Line both rise an’ shine,
An’ crossed the Line in ‘em many a time.
Oh, drink a health to the Blackball Line,
Their ships are stout an’ their men are fine.
