The wind was rising easterly the morning sky was blue

The Straits before us opend wide and free

We lookd towards the Admiral where high the Peter flew

And all our hearts were dancing like the sea

The French are gone to Martinique with four-and-twenty sail

The Old Superb is old and foul and slow

But the French are gone to Martinique and Nelsons on the trail

And where he goes the Old Superb must go

Refrain

So Westward Ho for Trinidad and Eastward Ho for Spain

And Ship Ahoy a hundred times a day

Round the world if need be and round the world again

With a lame duck lagging lagging all the way

The Old Superb was barnacled and green as grass below

Her sticks were only fit for stirring grog

The pride of all her midshipmen was silent long ago

And long ago they ceased to heave the log

Four year out from home she was and neer a week in port

And nothing save the guns aboard her bright

But Captain Keats he knew the game and swore to share the sport

For he never yet came in too late to fight

Refrain

Now up my lads the Captain cried for sure the case were hard

If longest out were first to fall behind

Aloft aloft with studding sails and lash them to the yard

For night and day the trades are driving blind

So all day long and all day long behind the fleet we crept

And how we fretted none but Nelson guessed

But evry night the Old Superb she sailed when others slept

Till we ran the French to earth with all the rest

O twas Westward Ho for Trinidad and Eastward Ho for Spain

And Ship Ahoy a hundred times a day

Round the world if need be and round the world again

With a lame duck lagging lagging all the way

Henry Newbolt