Oh, down by Millwall Basin as I went the other day, 
I met a skipper that I knew, and to him I did say: 
"Now what's the cargo, Captain, that brings you up this way?" 

"Oh, I've been up and down (said he) and round about also . . . 
From Sydney to the Skagerack, and Kiel to Callao . . . 
With a leaking steam-pipe all the way to Californ-i-o . . . 

"With pots and pans and ivory fans and every kind of thing, 
Rails and nails and cotton bales, and sewer pipes and string . . . 
But now I'm through with cargoes, and I'm here to serve the King! 

"And if it's sweeping mines (to which my fancy somewhat leans) 
Or hanging out with booby-traps for the skulking submarines, 
I'm here to do my blooming best and give the beggars beans! 

"A rough job and a tough job is the best job for me, 
And what or where I don't much care, I'll take what it may be, 
For a tight place is the right place when it's foul weather at sea!" 

There's not a port he doesn't know from Melbourne to New York; 
He's as hard as a lump of harness beef, and as salt as pickled pork . . . 
And he'll stand by a wreck in a murdering gale and count it part of his work! 

He's the terror of the fo'c'sle when he heals its various ills 
With turpentine and mustard leaves, and poultices and pills . . . 
But he knows the sea like the palm of his hand, as a shepherd knows the hills. 

He'll spin you yarns from dawn to dark—and half of 'em are true! 
He swears in a score of languages, and maybe talks in two! 

And he'll lower a boat in a hurricane to save a drowning crew. 
A rough job or a tough job-he's handled two or three- 
And what or where he won't much care, nor ask what the risk may be . . . 
For a tight place is the right place when it's wild weather at sea!