Heh! Walk her round. Heave, ah, heave her short again!
⁠Over, snatch her over, there, and hold her on the pawl.
Loose all sail, and brace your yards back and full—
⁠Ready jib to pay her off and heave short all!

⁠Well, ah, fare you well; we can stay no more with you, my love—
⁠Down, set down your liquor and your girl from off your knee;
⁠For the wind has come to say:
⁠'You must take me while you may,
⁠⁠If you'd go to Mother Carey
⁠⁠(Walk her down to Mother Carey!),
⁠Oh, we're bound to Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea!"