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Come hear about young Chambers boat, a boat with two ridge spars
Well fitted out for smuggling with her cabin full of jars.
To see her big long top mast above her fore mast head
She looks just like some brigantine out running the blockade.
We boldly leaved St. Peters, the wind it did blow fair,
We sailed for three long days and nights without a thought or care,
And passing by Green Island I think we'll have our grog,
Here comes the Lady Clover appearing out of the fog.
They fired three shots across us, a signal to heave to,
Our skipper stood on the round-house scarce knowing what to do,
Our skipper stood on the round-house with the rum all in his cup.
"Hard on your tiller," our skipper he cried, "and let your boat come up. "
They then la'nched out their long-boats, they boarded us like dogs,
Saying, "You're fitted for Bank fishery without a chart or log."
He said, "I've got my fishing clearance," young Chambers he did say,
"I don't require nothing else for here to Fortune Bay."
They fired their ropes around us, they fastened us secure,
And for the mouth of Harbour Breton for four long hours or more,
The wind sprang from the west'ard so violently did blow.
Here comes the Lady Clover, she's got a wreck in tow.
They carried us up to the jail-house, they readed down our case,
Saying, "Chambers you're a scandal, I can see it in your face,
We'll lock you now in jail, my boys, for four long months or more
To feed you well on Injun meal and bread out of the store."
"But now we're out of jail, my boys, to St. Peters we will steer,
We'll load her up with grog, my boys, and drink without a fear.
Here's a curse on those ten sons-o'-guns who brought me to the shore
To feed me well on Injun meal and bread out of the store."