Stormy/Walk Him Along, John

Old Stormy he is dead and gone,
Walk him along, John, carry him along
Old Stormy he is dead and gone,
Carry him to his burying ground

Chorus:
T'me! - way hey, Stormy.
Walk him along, John, carry him along
T'me! - way hey, Stormy.
Carry him to his burying ground

We'll dig his grave with a silver spade,
His shroud of the finest silk will be made.

We'll lower him down on a golden chain,
On every link we'll carve his name.

I wish I was old Stormy's son,
I'd build me a ship of ten thousand ton,

I'd load her up with Jamaica rum,
And every shellback would get some.

I'd issue a tot for every hand,
And a bottlefull for the shantyman.