If, my hearty, you'd not like a lubber appear

If, my hearty, you'd not like a lubber appear,
You must very well know how to hand, reef, and steer,
Yet a better manoeuvre 'mongst seamen is found,
'Tis the tight little maxim to know how to sound:
Which a sailor can tell from a bay to a shoal,
But the best sort of sounding is sounding the bowl.

I've sounded at land, and I've sounded at sea,
I've sounded a-weather, and sounded a-lee,
I've sounded my quine at the randivoo house,
And I've sounded my pouch without finding a souse:
What then, we've a brother in each honest soul,
And sailors can ne'er want for sounding the bowl.

All men try for soundings wherever they steer,
Your nabobs for soundings strive hard in Cape Clear,
And there is not a soul, from the devil to the pope,
That could live but for sounding the Cape of Good Hope:
No fear then nor danger our hearts shall controul,
Though at sea, we're in soundings while sounding the bowl.