A capital ship for an ocean trip Was the "Walloping Window-Blind." No wind that blew dismayed her crew, Or troubled the captain's mind. The man at the wheel was made to feel Contempt for the wildest blow-ow-ow, Thought it often appeared when the gale had cleared That he'd been in his bunk below. So blow ye winds heigh-ho, A-roving I will go; I'll stay no more on England's shore, So let the music play-ay-ay; I'm off for the morning train, I'll cross the raging main, I'm off for my love with a boxing glove Ten thousand miles away. The bo'son's mate was very sedate, Yet fond of amusement, too. He played hop-scotch with the starboard watch, While the captain tickled the crew. The gunner we had was apparently mad, For he sat on the after rail, And fired salutes with the captain's boots In the teeth of a booming gale. The captain sat on the commodore's hat, And dined in a royal way Off pickles and figs and little roast pigs, And gunnery bread each day. The cook was Dutch and behaved as such, For the diet he served the crew, Was a couple of tons of hot-cross buns Served up with sugar and glue. Then we all fell as mariners will On a diet that's rough and crude; And we shivered and shook as we dipped the cook In a tub of his gluesome food. All nautical pride we cast aside, And we ran the vessel ashore On the Gulliby Isles, where the poopoo smiles, And the rubbily ubdugs roar. Composed of sand was that favored land, And trimmed with cinnamon straws, And pink and blue was the pleasing hue Of the tickle-toe-teaser's claws. We sat on the edge of a sandy ledge, And shot at the whistling bee, While the ring-tailed bats wore waterproof hats As the dipped in the shining sea. On rugbug bark from dawn till dark We dined till we all had grown Uncommonly shrunk, when a Chinese junk Came up from the Torrible Zone. She was chubby and square, but we didn't much care, So we cheerily put to sea, And we left all the crew of the junk to chew On the bark of the rugbug tree.