Chorus

Then drink, brave gentlemen, drink with me To the Lincolnshire saint by the old North Sea. A glass and a toast and a song and a rhyme To the barefooted saint of the olden time.

But the saint grew old, and sorry the day When his life went out with the tide in the bay; But he left a name and he left a creed Of the cheerful life and the kindly deed. Then remember the man of the days of old Whose heart was warm and as pure as gold, And remember the tears and the prayers he gave For any poor devil with a soul to save.