Sarah Blasko - Spanish Ladies - From Turn lyrics

Farewell and adieu unto you Spanish ladies Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain For we have received orders to sail to old England We hope in a short time to see you again We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues We hove our ship to with the wind on sou'west, boys We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take Twas forty-five fathoms, with a white sandy bottom So we squared our main yard and up channel did make We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors We'll rant and we'll roar along 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 drink off his full bumper And let every man drink off his full gla** We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy Here's to the health of each true-hearted la** We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues The first land we made was called the Dodman Next Ram Head off Plymouth, off Portland the Wight We sailed by Beachy, by Fairlee and Dover Then abreast away for South Foreland Light We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues The signal is made for the grand fleet to anchor And all in the Downs that night for to lie; Let go your shank painter, let go your cat Haul up your clewgarnets Let tacks and shAnnotateeets fly! We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors We'll rant and we'll roar along 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 drink off his full bumper And let every man drink off his full gla** We'll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy Here's to the health of each true-hearted la** We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues