In eighteen hundred and forty-six
On March the fourteenth day,
I bought myself a calendar
For we were bound away.

We sailed from Tacky Guano
And followed the seabird’s flight,
For we were hunting whales, me boys,
At least we thought we might.

We sailed for three long days and nights
But saw no whales at all.
The mate went up the mast to look
While our captain went up the wall.

We sailed for four more days and nights
And still we had no luck;
Till a whale come up for air, me boys
And the mate cried, “Thar she suck!”

The whale she lashed her tail, me boys,
One man on deck took a glancing blow;
But not so bad as our captain
For he was wounded down below.

Now the first to throw his harpoon out
Was Valparaiso Luke.
He hit her in the tail, me boys,
But they said that was a fluke.

Now we went in with our blubber hooks
And the whale sunk down below;
We caused her for to vomit, boys,
And the mate cried,”Thar she throw!”

Now we hauled that whale on deck, me boys,
Amid many hearty cries;
But that fish it was so huge, me boys,
That our vessel did capsize.

And our captain with remorse was filled
Likewise with water too;
“I’ll no more hunt the whale,” he cried,
“If that’s the last thing I don’t do!”

“I’ll never more hunt that whale,” he cried,
And what’s more, he was right.
For the heavy seas bore down on him
And carried him from our sight.

And soon likewise we all were drown’d
None lived to tell the tale;
Not one of us survived to tell
Of how we lost that whale.

In Canso Strait our vessel lay:
We just arrived in from the Bay.
Our vessel built both stout and strong
To Gloucester she does belong.

We were homeward bound and ready for sea
When our drunken captain got on a spree.
He came on board and to us did say:
"Get your anchor, lads, and fill her away."

We filled her away at his command.
With all sails set we left the land,
Leaviny Sand Point all on our lee
As we sailed into a heavy sea.

The night came on and dark clouds lower;
The wind, did howl and breakers roar.
An angry squall and the angry sky
It put her down at half-mast high.

We kindly asked him to shorten sail
Or we'd all be lost in the heavy gale.
He turned and swore if the wind would blow
He'd show us how his boat could go:

"I am captain here and I will not fail
For to shoot the first man to touch a sail
Then up speaks one of our bravest men:
"There's nine of us right here at hand

"We'll reef her down and to sea we'll go,
If he interferes, lash him down below.
We'll reef her down to a steady steer
From those breaking waves as she disappears

We're heading up the Cape Shore now
As she knocks the white foam from her bow.
Ouu jib-sheet tore, in the wind it flew;
We hauled it down and bent our new.

We were homeward bound with great success
Like some lonely seagull seeking rest.
When I get home no more I'll sail
With a drunken captain in a heavy gale.

Now come all you ladies gay, what robs sailors of their pay,
And list' while I sing this tarry tune,
When Jack Tar he comes ashore, with his gold an' silver store,
There's no one can get rid o' it so soon.

Now the first thing he demands is a fiddler to his hand,
A bottle of Nelson's Blood so stout an' warm.
And a pretty gal likewise with two dark an' rollin' eyes,
An' he'll drop his anchor an' never more will roam.

Then the landlady she comes in with her brand new crinoline,
She looks like some bright an' flashin' star,
An' she's ready to wait on him, if his pockets are lined with tin,
An' to chalk his score on the board behind the bar.

Then she calls a pretty maid, right-handed an' soft-laid,
An' up aloft they climb without much bother,
An' she shortens in her sail for a weatherin' of the gale,
An' soon in the tiers they're moored quite close together.

Then he shifted her main tack an' he caught her flat aback,
They rolled from the lee to the weather,
An' he laid her close 'longside, oh, closehauled as she would lie,

'Twas tack an' tack through hell an' stormy weather.

But his money soon was gone, an' his flash gal soon had flown,
She roamed along the Highway for another,
An' the landlady cried, "Pay yer score an' git outside,
Yer cargo's gone an' you've met stormy weather."

Then poor ol' Jack must understand that there's ships a-wantin' hands,
And to the Shadwell Basin he went down,
And he shipped away forlorn on a passage round the Horn,
Goodbye to the boys an' the flash gals of the town.