They gave her Government coal to burn,
And a Q.F. gun at bow and stern,
And sent her out a-rovin’, a-rovin’, a-rovin’,
The Lord knows where!

Her skipper was mate of a bucko ship
Which always killed one man per trip,
So he is used to rovin’, rovin’, rovin’,
The Lord knows where!

Her mate was skipper of a chapel in Wales,
And so he fights in topper and tails—
Religi-ous tho’ rovin’, rovin’, rovin’,
The Lord knows where!

Her engineer is fifty-eight,
So he’s prepared to meet his fate,
Which ain’t unlikely rovin’, rovin’, rovin’,
The Lord knows where!

Her leading-stoker’s seventeen,
So he don’t know what the judgments means
Unless he cops ’em rovin’, rovin’, rovin’,
The Lord knows where!.

Her cook was chef in the Lost Dogs’ Home,
    Mark well what I do say!
And I’m sorry for Fritz when they all come
    A-rovin’, a-rovin’, aroarin’ and a-rovin’,
    Round the North Sea rovin’,
    The Lord knows where!