Wuz yer niver down on the Broomielaw,
Where them Yankee boys are all the go.
Timme way, hey-ey-ey-hey, hey-ey, ah-ha,
Me bully boys, ah-haah!
Oh, why don’t yer try fer to woo Miss Lucy Long?
Oh, as I walked out here one mornin’ fair,
For to view the view an’ take some air.
It wuz here I met with Miss Lucy fair,
It wuz here we met I do declare.
Raised me ‘at an’ told ‘er “How do?”
Sez she, “I will not be seen with such like you!”
“Dirty sailors, ye stink o’ tar,
Besides I do know what kind ye sailors are!”
Me friend is a mate in the Blackball Line,
With his uniform an’ peak-cap fine.”
So I left ‘er there on the quay,
Alone, for that gal wuz much too smart fer me!
