Lyrics The 'Old Superb' - Peter Dawson

The wind was rising easterly, the morning sky was blue
The Straits before us opened wide and free.
We looked towards the admiral where high the peter flew
And all our hearts were dancing like the sea.
The French had gone to Martinique with four and twenty sail.
The "Old Superb" is old and foul and slow
But the French had gone to Martinique, and Nelson's on the trail
And where he goes the "Old Superb" must go

So Westward Ho! for Trinidad, and Eastward Ho! for Spain
And Ship a-hoy! a hundred times a day.
Round the world if need be, and round the world again
With a lame duck lagging, lagging all the way

The "Old Superb" was barnacled and green as grass below.
Her sticks were only fit for stirring grog.
The pride of all her midshipmen was silent long ago
And long ago they ceased to heave the log.
Four year out from home she was and ne'er a week in port.
And nothing save her guns aboard her bright.
But Captain Keats, he knew the game, and swore to share the sport,
For he never yet came in too late to fight

So Westward Ho! for Trinidad, and Eastward Ho! for Spain
And Ship a-hoy! a hundred times a day.
Round the world if need be, and round the world again
With a lame duck lagging, lagging all the way.

"Now up me lads" the captain cried "for sure the case were hard
Of longest out were first to fall behind".
Aloft, aloft with studding sails, and lash them on the yard
For night and day the trades are driving blind.
So all day long and all day long behind the fleet we crept.
And how we fretted none but Nelson guessed.
But every night the "Old Superb" she sailed when others slept
'Til we ran the French to earth with all the rest.

So Westward Ho! for Trinidad, and Eastward Ho! for Spain
And Ship a-hoy! a hundred times a day.
Round the world if need be, and round the world again
Round the world again (round the world again)
With a lame duck, a lame duck, a-lagging, lagging, lagging all the way