Take the wheel I hear the timbers creaking
Take the wheel I think this ship is sinking
Jamaica seems so far and I've been thinking
Old Billy Bones has gone to sea and quit his dockside drinking
Check it out, check it out, check it out
And when I'm dead who'll fly the White Bird home
I'm not the ancient mariner your children know
And the sea's the field these old Jack tars have sown
'Cause Billy Bones just wants to know who'll fly the White Bird home
Check it out, check it out, check it out
Oh your majesty, your majesty
I heard the bosun cry
Old Billy Bones has washed ashore
Upon a foreign tide, tide, tide, tide
