We be three poor mariners, Newly come from the seas, We spend our lives in jeopardy, While others live at ease. Shall we go dance the round, the round, the round? And he that is a bully boy, Come pledge me on the ground, the ground, the ground!
We care not for those martial men That do our states disdain; But we care for those merchant men Which do our states maintain. To them we dance this round, around, around And he that is a bully boy, Come pledge me on the ground, the ground, the ground!