Hoist her up and go afar 
don’t give a ... if we’ll cross the bar. 
We’re sailing away on this rotten brig 
while dancing the Capt’n’s jig!

Letters o’ grace, letters o’ Marque! 
Grant me permission to sink that barque! 
Name me ‘a dog’, call me ‘a pig’! 
I’m dancing the Capt’n’s jig, oh!

Hoist’em up them scarlet sails 
else you’ll be flung by the Cat o’ nine tails. 
(Oh,) hare-brained fools! This isn’t a rig; 
we’re dancing the Capt’n’s jig!

Whimps of the flock, men of dry land; 
whining like children when far off the strand. 
Throw off yer frock, burn up yer whig 
and dance the Capt’n’s jig, oh!

He’s dancing right here yet dancing so far away 
(Needless to say!) 
His [bad word] steps are keeping the reefs at bay. 
(All the way!) 
The Capt’n’s ode to Terpsichore is plain 
(So it’s said!) 
His cannons keeps his rhythm, their rhythm is his name

We do not sing, just ululate 
whilst spending on liquor our puny rent 
It doesn’t pay off, the check is not big, 
to dance the Capt’n’s jig… 
Listen here, now listen straight 
the crowd be a’waiting, we mustn’t wait 
Pillage our show, plunder’s our gig 
we’re dancing the Capt’n’s jig, oh!