Aft on the poop there’s walkin’ about, Our jolly second mate so able an’ stout. What he’s thinkin’ of he doesn’t know himself. I wish that he would hurry up an’ strike, strike the bell! Strike the bell, second mate, let us go below. If you look to windward you will see it’s gonna blow. Look at the glass you can see how it’s fell. We wish that you would hurry up an’ strike, strike the bell!
For’d on the fo’c’stle, keepin’ sharp look-out, There’s Johnny standin’ he is ready to shout, “Light’s burnin’ bright, Sir, an’ everything’s well!” He’s wishin’ that the second mate would strike, strike the bell!
Down in the main deck, workin’ in the pumps, There’s the starb’rd watch longin’ for their bunks. Lookin’ to win’ward they see a big squall. Thei’re wishin’ that the second mate would strike, strike the bell!
Aft at the wheel poor Anderson stands, Graspin’ the spokes with his cold feelin’ hands. Lookin’ at the compass the course clear to tell. He’s wishin’ that the second mate would strike, strike the bell!
High on the quarterdeck our Cap’en stands, Lookin’ to win’ward with his glasses in his hands. What he is thinkin’ of we know very well. He’s thinkin’ more of takin’ sails than strike, strike the bell!
