Declare it open season for the ladies of the night,
Sailors, ripe for plucking, are coming into the sight.
Shriving in the brothel houses, crewmen drink and revel
They find their way like water to the lowest level.

Half the crew are footless drunk before the night is over
A sailor with a wooden leg walks better drunk than sober
All their hard-won earnings are squandered in a flourish
They fall along the waterfront full of Dutch Courage

I wish you safe home my friend, my friend
I wish you safe home my friend

Here embarks the nation’s pride: The Lords for a Day
The dregs of society, the men with feet of clay
The hustlers, the street rats, the swindlers and thieves
Mountebanks and jugglers and those who make-believe
Vagebonds and layabouts, night stalkers and hellcats.
A defrocked priest, a younger son, a God-fearing fanatic.
A charlatan with pimples and eyes deep in his sockets,
Up the gangplank, two by two, they raise a hullabaloo,
For God’s sake… and for the lowlands of Holland!

There goes Adriaen Jacobsz, the skipper next to God.
A hollow leg, an empty keg, an alcoholic sod!
With one eye on the weather, the other on the grog
He sails the ship by instinct in a drunken fog.

Jeronimus Cornelis under-merchant, pharmacist.
A tantalising talker, an educated classicist.
He walks the deck without a sound, as silent as the mist.
Now you see him, now you don't, the alchamist.

I wish you safe home my friend, my friend
I wish you safe home my friend

Here embarks the nation’s pride: The Lords for a Day
The dregs of society, the men with feet of clay
The hustlers, the street rats, the swindlers and thieves
Mountebanks and jugglers and those who make-believe
Vagebonds and layabouts, night stalkers and hellcats.
A defrocked priest, a younger son, a God-fearing fanatic.
A charlatan with pimples and eyes deep in his sockets,
Up the gangplank, two by two, they raise a hullabaloo,
For God’s sake… and for the lowlands of Holland!