Every bullet has its billet

I'm a tough true-hearted sailor,

Careless and all that d'ye see,

Never at the times a railer,

What is time or tide to me?

All must die when fate shall will it,

Providence ordains it so,

Every bullet has its billet,

Man the boat boys, yo, heave yo,

Yo, heave yo, yo, heave yo,

Man the boat boys, yo, heave yo.

Life's at best a sea of trouble,

He who fears it is a dunce,

Death's to me an empty bubble,

Man can never die but once.

Blood, if duty bids, I'll spill it,

Yet I'll have a tear for woe,

Every bullet has its billet,

Man the boat boys, yo, heave yo,

Yo, heave yo, yo, heave yo,

Man the boat boys, yo, heave yo.

Shrouded in a hammock, glory

Celebrate the falling brave;

Oh, how many famed in story

Sleep beneath its ocean cave?

Bring the cup, boys, let us fill it;

Shall we shun the fight? Oh no,

Every bullet has its billet,

When the boatswain's pipe sounds yo,

Yo, heave yo, yo, heave yo,

Man the boat boys, yo, heave yo.