The sea is full of shipwrecks, boys,
But she can give as well as take,
Just listen to the song of Bob
And the Goodwill of Hoylake

Bob started out as a Dock Board boy,
Sailed out to the Irish Sea.
He learned the ropes, the knots to tie
On the Hoylake fishery

On the edge of the Wirral land,
Tide flats beneath the sun,
It looked so bloody peaceful
Before the north wind did come

‘The Proper Job’ - Bob’s boat that day,
She sat soft upon the sea,
And no one gave a single thought
To impending tragedy

But on that cursѐd cruel day
That north wind she did blow
And the silted sands of Hoylake
Began their undertow

The sea picked up Bob’s little boat
And drove it to the shore
Against the harbour wall at Meols
‘The Proper Job’ was no more

It broke into a splintered mess
Of planks and iron and fuel,
And uninsured against the loss
Bob felt a bloody fool

That seemed the end for our poor Bob
No more a man could take
But he had all forgotten
The goodwill of Hoylake

For many a good ship dies, my boys,
Ends its days on the sea bed,
But the good folk of Hoylake
Resurrected one instead

They bought a boat of timber,
Of rudder, cleat and nail,
They stuck two fingers up
To that bloody northern gale.

They stuck two fingers up, my boys,
To that bloody northern gale,
When they start upon a task
The folk of Hoylake never fail.

They launched it from the harbour
With music on its way
A little boat of bobbing blue
Now sailing in the bay

You see that flash of blue, my boys,
As she rides upon the waves
That’s Bob in his wheelhouse
Just doing what he craves

Life is not all shipwrecks, boys.
Life can give as well as take
Just listen to the song of Bob
And the Goodwill of Hoylake

The Goodwill of Hoylake, my boys,
She smiles upon the sea,
And while she sails there is hope out there
For Bob and you and me

For Bob and you and me, my friends,
That north wind may come,
So sail the Goodwill of Hoylake
Before the setting of the sun