The moon on the ocean was dimm'd by a ripple,
Affording a chequer'd delight;
The gay jolly tars pass'd the word for the tipple,
And the toast, for 'twas Saturday night.
Some sweetheart or wife, he lov'd as his life,
Each drank and wish'd he could hail her;
But the standing toast, that pleased the most,
Was "The wind that blows, the ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor"

Some drank "The Queen" and some "her brave ships",
And some "The Constitution";
Some "May our foes and all such rips
Yield to English resolution";
The fate that might bless some Poll or Bess,
And that they soon might hail her;
But the standing toast, that pleased the most,
Was "The wind that blows, the ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor"

Some drank "The Prince" and some "Our Land",
This glorious land of freedom;
Some "That our tars may never want
Heroes brave to lead them";
"That she who's in distress may find
Such friends as ne'er may fail her";
But the standing toast, that pleased the most,
Was "The wind that blows, the ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor"

(English sea shanty -- written and composed by Charles Dibdin)

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