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The Dreadnaught

There is a flash packet, a packet of fame,
she belongs to New York an‘ the Dreadnaught’s her name.
She’s bound to the westward, where the salty wind blow.

Bound away to the westward in the Dreadnaught,
we’ll go derry down, down, go derry down.

The time of her sailin‘ is now drawin‘ nigh.
Farewell, pretty maids, we must bid you goodbye.
Farewell to ol‘ England an‘ all we hold stear.


And now we are howlin‘ out Waterloo dock.
The boys an‘ the gals on the pearhead do flock.
They’ll give us three cheers, while their tears freely flow.


The Dreadnaught’s a-howlin‘ down the wild Irish sea.
Her passengers are merry, an‘ their hearts full o‘ glee.
Her sailors like tigers they walk to an‘ fro.


Now the Dreadnaught’s arrived in New York once more.
So go ashore, shipmates, to the land we adore
with wives an‘ wi‘ sweethearts so merry we’ll be.


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