
We cut out from Gibralter, in 1704,
English sails stirred up a dread,
Rooke was knockin’ on the door
And wailed his hungry lead.
So we split to the horizon
Fore the waters painted red!
*
Heave the line. Heave the line.
N’ leave no man behind.
Heave the line. Heave the line. And go.
If we fall in to the brine,
No history shall we find.
So heave, heave that line.
*
Diego’s 100 cannons lit up Byng’s fleet
Vain gainst flotilla’s mail
The Alliance battery not to be beat
So the Old Mole turned its tail
As we rounded Europa’s horn
Oer ramparts, Jack did flail!
*
Heave the line. Heave the line.
N’ leave no man behind.
Heave the line. Heave the line. And go.
This is not our fight.
We ferry townsfolk from the fright.
So heave, heave that line.
*
Saint Mary’s crown, to the gutter rolled,
And Andalusian ire was kindled hot.
Philip’s fealty would not be sold.
So raven’s talons they stabbed n’ shot.
Of the valor n’ ruin many were told.
For never were we caught!
*
Heave the line. Heave the line.
N’ leave no man behind.
Heave the line. Heave the line. And go.
Finer things shall we find.
Beyond red-washed brine.
Onward, we heave the line.