A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
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SLOOP JOHN B.
We come on the Sloop John B.
My grandfather and me.
Around Nassau town we do roam.
Drinking all night.
Got into a fight.
I feel so broke up, I want to go home.
So hoist up the John B. sails.
See how the mainsail sets.
Call for the captain, ashore, let me go home.
I want to go home.
I want to go home.
I feel so broke up, I want to go home.
The first mate, he got drunk.
He broke in the captain’s bunk.
The constable had to come and take him away.
Sheriff John Stone.
Why don’t you leave me alone?
I feel so broke up, I want to go home.
So hoist up the John B. sails.
See how the mainsail sets.
Call for the captain, ashore, let me go home.
I want to go home.
I want to go home.
I feel so broke up, I want to go home.
The poor cook, he caught the fits.
He threw away all my grits.
Then he took and he ate up all of my corn.
Let me go home.
Why don’t they let me go home?
This is the worst trip I’ve ever been on.
So hoist up the John B. sails.
See how the mainsail sets.
Call for the captain, ashore, let me go home.
I want to go home.
I want to go home.
I feel so broke up, I want to go home.
Traditional Caribbean
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