John Damerlay

1 Aloft we all must go-oh,
John come down the backstay,
In hail and frost and snow-oh,
John come down the backstay,
John Dameray!

John Dameray—John come down the backstay,
John Dameray—John come down the backstay,
John Dameray!

2 My ma she wrote to me,
“My son, come home from sea.”

3 Got no monay and no clo'es,
Am knocking out of doors.

4 My home I soon will be in,
And then we'll have some gin.

5 From sea I will keep clear,
And live by selling beer.
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