Motley Words

General Taylor gained the day
Walk him along, John, carry him along
Oh, General Taylor gained the day
Carry him to his burying ground

To me way hey, Stormy
Walk him along, John, carry him along
To me way hey, Stormy
Carry him to his burying ground

Oh I wish I was old Stormy’s son
I’d build a ship ten thousand tons

We’ll load her down with ale and rum
And every shellback should have some

We’ll dig his grave with a silver spade
His shroud of the finest silk is made

We’ll lower him down on a golden chain
On every link we’ll carve his name

Well General Taylor’s dead and gone
General Taylor’s dead and gone