Spanish Ladies

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The Dreadnoughts

The Dreadnoughts are a Canadian 6-piece folk-punk band from Vancouver. The band combines a wide range of European folk music with modern street punk. The band has six full-length albums and three EPs on various labels, and has played around 500 shows in around 30 countries. They also perform frequently as a traditional polka band at polka festivals, under the name "Polka Time!". Their performance peak was in 2010, when 180 shows were played. more »

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Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain
Cause we've received orders to sail for old England
And we hope in a short time to see you again

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues

We hove our ship to, with the wind at southwest, boys
We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take
'Twas forty-five fathoms with a fine sandy bottom
So we squared our main yard and up Channel did make

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues

The first land we sighted was called the Deadman
Next Ram's Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland, and Wight
We sailed by Beachy, by Fairlee and Dungness
Then bore straight away for the South Foreland Light

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues

Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor
And all in the Downs that night for to lie;
Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper
Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly!

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues

Let every man here drink up his full bumper
Let every man here drink up his full glass
We'll sing and be jolly and drown melancholy
And here's to the health of my true-hearted lass

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues

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