Spanish Ladies - Sarah Blasko

Farewell and adieu unto you Spanish ladies

Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain

For we have received orders to sail to old England

We hope in a short time to see you again

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues

We hove our ship to with the wind on sou'west, boys

We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take

Twas forty-five fathoms, with a white sandy bottom

So we squared our main yard and up channel did make

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues

Now let every man drink off his full bumper

And let every man drink off his full glass

We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy

Here's to the health of each true-hearted lass

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues

The first land we made was called the Dodman

Next Ram Head off Plymouth, off Portland the Wight

We sailed by Beachy, by Fairlee and Dover

Then abreast away for South Foreland Light

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues

The signal is made for the grand fleet to anchor

And all in the Downs that night for to lie;

Let go your shank painter, let go your cat

Haul up your clewgarnets

let tacks and shAnnotateeets fly!

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues

Now let every man drink off his full bumper

And let every man drink off his full glass

We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy

Here's to the health of each true-hearted lass

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors

We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England

From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues