Rolling Stone

I ain't a-goin' to sign in this ship, sonny, Nor sail in 'er no more: I'm goin' to mosey round an' spend my money An' 'ave my run ashore, An' then look for a ship that's bound somewheres As I've never been afore. It ain't as I've got anythink agin 'er Of any sort or kind, It ain't as I 'aven't 'ad as good times in 'er As any I can mind; It ain't as I 'aven't 'ad as good shipmates As a man 'ud wish to find. It's just that I'm fed up with things an' places, An' all the blessed show, An' what I want 's a fresh lot o' chaps' faces An' a ship as I don't know, An' different grub an' a strange berth to lie in An' somewheres else to go. I've always been that way since I was a nipper An' 'ooked it off to sea, Or I daresay by now I'd 'a' been a skipper, Or a mate at least maybe, But if I could I wouldn't do no different (Which I couldn't, bein' me!) An' I ain't a-goin' to sign again, sonny, In this old ship no more: I'm goin' to mosey round an' spend my money An' 'ave my run ashore, An' then I'll look for a ship that's goin' somewheres As I 'aven't been afore . . .