Ewan MacColl — The Press Gang Roud 662

As I walked down on London street A press gang did I chance to meet They asked me if I'd join the fleet On board of a man-o-war, boys Come brother shipmates tell me true What kind of treatment they give you That I may know before I go On board of a man-o-war, boys When I got there to my surprise All that they told me was shocking lies There was a row and a jolly old row On board of a man-o-war, boys The first thing they done they took me in hand They lashed me with a tar of a strand They flogged me till I could not stand On board of a man-o-war, boys Now I was married and me wife's namе was Grace 'Twas she that led mе to shocking disgrace It's oft I'd curse her ugly face On board of a man-o-war, boys When next I get may foot on shore To see them London girls once more I'll never go to sea no more On board of a man-o-war, boys