…today is Devil Down Below.
I used to be a fisherman, on the icy crests we’d ride
Like a banshee on the wind, we’d sail the ocean wide
From the shores of Yarmouth Bay, to Newfoundland we’d go
And we’d shout, shout, shout, shout at the devil down below.
Unto the scoals of Greenland, and to the screaming gale
Out into the storm, chasing down the whale
When the harpoon struck, the mighty fish would blow
And we’d shout, shout, shout, shout at the devil down below.
In our bunks we’d find no solace, no comfort, just remorse
Cursing the bad fortune, which has set us on this course
We’d gather round the hotplate and sing both high and low
And we’d shout, shout, shout, shout at the devil down below.
From the rocks of Lizard Reef to Plymouth we are bound
The skipper’s yelling “Blood!” as the jagged cliffs we round
Jack Gabbin in the fore’stle, Billy Reilly in the crow,
And we shout, shout, shout, shout at the devil down below.
Only when we’ve quenched this might vessels appetite
Will the Captain tell us, Lads, we’ll be going home tonight
We’d turn to the raging sea, and we’d raise our fists and yell
You won’t be seeing us today, you won’t be seeing us in hell!
Once ashore we’re heading to the pub for a tankard full of ale
When a day would turn into a week and time would come to sail
We’d say goodbye to the girls we love and off from shore we’d go
And we’d shout, shout, shout, shout at the devil down below.
And we’d shout, shout, shout, shout at the devil down below!
A Pirate and Her Soldier 