'Twas Monday night, the moon was shinin' bright,
The winds had been a blowin' all the day,
We was sittin' in a ring, an', Lor', how we did sing,
I'd reckon you'd ha' heard us 'cross the bay.
I'd sung o' black-eyed Sue, who was so fond an' true,
When we hears a sort o' splashin' in the sea,
An' a nigger then we spied, scramblin' up the starboard side,
An' he tumbled on the deck in front o' we.
Hillee, haullee, hillce ho, hillee, haullee, hillee- he.
The ship's a sailin' on the sea,
An' every jolly Jack, will soon be comin' back,
Singin' haullee, hillee, haullee, hillee ho.
The tears were on his cheek, he sobb'd an' couldn't speak,
He show'd us where his back were torn an' scored,
He clutch'd us one au' all, an' he trembled, like to fall,
When he saw the white-faced planter come aboard.
Then our cap'n he up stood, so noble, proud an' good,
An' the poor old nig were at his knee;
Every man is free, he cries, where the British color flies,
An' I'll never give him up, says he.-Chorus.
Then the planter he grew pale, an' like a cur turned tail,
As quickly down the side went he,
Or on our British deck he'd soon ha' found his neck,
An' the poor old slave was free.
So here's good luck an' life, to our cap'n an' his wife,
God bless'n for his noble words, say we,
For to free the slaves, Britannia rules the waves,
An' that's being mistress of the sea.-Chorus.