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(Farewell to You, Ye Fine) Spanish Ladies

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OriginalLyrics from The Music of the Waters, by Laura Smith
(FAREWELL TO YOU, YE FINE) SPANISH LADIES

Farewell and adieu to you, gay Spanish ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain,
For we've received orders for to sail to old England;
But we hope very soon we shall see you again.

Well rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas,
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England,
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.

Then we hove our ship to with the wind at sou'-west, my boys,
We hove our ship to our soundings for to see;
So we rounded and sounded, and got forty-five fathoms,
We squared our mainyard, up channel steered we.

Well rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas,
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England,
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.

Now the first land we made it is called the Deadman,
Then Ram Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland, and Wight;
We sailed by Beachy, by Fairlee and Dungeness,
Until we came abreast of the South Foreland Light.

Well rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas,
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England,
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.

Then the signal was made for the grand fleet for to anchor,
All in the Downs that night for to meet;
Then it's stand by your stoppers, let go your shank painters,
Haul all your clew garnets, stick out tacks and sheets.

Well rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar across 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 toss of a full bumper,
And let every man toss off a full bowl;
And we'll drink and be merry and drown melancholy,
Singing, here's a good health to all true-hearted souls.

Well rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas,
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England,
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
(FAREWELL TO YOU, YE FINE) SPANISH LADIES



Now farewell to you, ye fine Spanish ladies,
Now farewell to you, ye ladies of Spain,
For we've received orders to sail for old England,
And perhaps we may never more see you again.

We'll range and we'll rove like true British sailors;
We'll range and we'll rove all on the salt seas;
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of England,
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.

We hove our ship to, with the wind at sou'west, boys,
We hove our ship to, for to strike soundings clear,
Then filled the main top-sail, and bore right away, boys,
And straight up the Channel our course we did steer.

The first land we made, it is called the Dead-man,
Next, Ram Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland, and Wight.
We sailed by Beachy, by Fairly, and Dungeness,
And then bore away for the South Foreland Light.

Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor,
All in the downs that night for to sleep;
Now stand by your stoppers, see clear your shank painters,
Haul up your clew garnets, stick out tacks and sheets.

Now let ev'ry man toss off a full bumper,
Now let ev'ry man take off his full bowl,
For we will be jolly, and drown melancholy,
With a health to each jovial and true-hearted soul.


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