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'Tother day as the chaplain was preaching,
Behind him I curiously slunk,
And while he our duty was teaching,
How we should never get drunk,
I shew'd him the stuff and he twigg'd it,
And it soon set his reverence agog,
And he swigg'd and Nick swigg'd
And Ben swigg'd and Dick swigg'd
And I swigg'd, all of us swigged it,
And swore there was nothing like grog.

Then trust me there's nothing like drinking,
So pleasant on this side the grave;
It keeps the unhappy from thinking,
And makes e'en more valiant the brave,
As for me the moment I twigg'd it,
The good stuff has so set me agog
Sick or well, late and early,
Wind fouly or fairly,
Helm a-lee or a wether,
Four hours together.
I've constantly swigg'd it,
And damme, there's nothing like grog.

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ROW, BROTHERS, ROW.

Faintly as tolls the ev'ning chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at Saint Ann's our parting hymn.