exchanging along a battle drum’s bang;
For his soul was never his, but the seas.
His soul’s been bartered so ours can be free,
enduring hot brass and sharp powder’s pang.
His soul’s sold to our country tis of thee.
He’s fighting for his love he hopes to see,
no longer anchored his breast in gold chain.
For his soul was never his, but the seas.
Beat the seas with rudder’s scream like banshees,
these orders barked at him in rugged slang;
his soul’s sold to our country tis of thee.
Vowed to keep it a land of liberty,
“Anchors aweigh, my boys” our lady sang,
for his soul was never his, but the seas.
But fire rang down his ship to her knees
and twenty-one guns blasted his love’s brain.
His soul’s sold to our country tis of thee,
for his soul was never his, but the seas.