In Lowestoft a boat was laid,

       Mark well what I do say!

       And she was built for the herring trade,

       But she has gone a-rovin', a-rovin', a-rovin',

       The Lord knows where!

      They gave her Government coal to burn,

       And a Q.F. gun at bow and stern,

       And sent her out a-rovin', etc.

      Her skipper was mate of a bucko ship

       Which always killed one man per trip,

       So he is used to rovin', etc.

      Her mate was skipper of a chapel in Wales,

       And so he fights in topper and tails—

       Religi-ous tho' rovin', etc.

      Her engineer is fifty-eight,

       So he's prepared to meet his fate,

       Which ain't unlikely rovin', etc.

      Her leading-stoker's seventeen,

       So he don't know what the Judgments mean,

       Unless he cops 'em rovin', etc.

      Her cook was chef in the Lost Dogs' Home,

       Mark well what I do say!

       And I'm sorry for Fritz when they all come

       A-rovin', a-rovin', a-roarin' and a-rovin',

       Round the North Sea rovin',

       The Lord knows where!