Out on the poop-deck and walking about,
There's the second mate so steady and so stout
What he is a-thinking of he doesn't know himsel'
We wish that he would hurry up and strike,
Strike the bell

Strike the bell, second mate, let us go below,
Look well to windward you can see it's going to blow.
Look at the glass, you can see that it has fell,
We wish that you would hurry up and strike,
Strike the bell

Down on the main deck and working at the pumps,
There's the starboard watch all a-longing for their bunks.
Looking out to windward they see a great swell,
They're wishing that the second mate would strike,
Strike the bell

Aft at the wheel poor Anderson stands,
Grasping at the spokes with his cold mittened hands.
Looking at the compass, oh the course is clear as Hell
He's wishing that the second mate would strike,
Strike the bell

Forward on the foc'sle head a-keeping sharp look-out,
Young Johnny's standing ready for to shout;
Lights are burning bright, sir, and every thing is well,
He's wishing that the second mate would strike,
Strike the bell

Aft on the quarterdeck the gallant captain stands,
Looking out to windward a spyglass in his hand;
What he is a-thinking of we know very well,
He's thinking more of shortening sail than
Striking the bell!