And he could not do his duty,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo.
So the mate, he being a bad man,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
He led him to the gangway,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
And he gave him five-and-twenty,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
But the captain, he being a good man,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
He took him in the cabin,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
And he gave him wine and whiskey,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
And he learned him navigation,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
And now he's Captain Ranzo,
Finally the mate's clear, sharp order comes: "Belay there; clap a watch tackle on the lee fore brace." "Aye, aye, sir!" And so every sheet, halliard, and brace is swayed up and tautened to the freshening breeze. The gear is coiled up, the brasswork polished until it glistens in the morning sun, the paintwork and gratings are wiped off, decks swabbed dry, and the pumps manned to another rousing chanty:
"London town is a-burning.
Oh, run with the bullgine, run.
Way, yay, way, yay, yar.
Oh, run with the bullgine, run."
