Boston Harbour
(Boston / Big Bow Wow)
From Boston harbor we set sail
When it was blowing a devil of a gale,
With our ringtail set all abaft the mizzen peak,
And our dolphin striker plowing up the deep
With a big Bow-wow! Tow-row-row! Fol-de-rol de-ri-do-day!
Up comes the skipper from down below,
And he looks aloft and he looks alow,
And he looks alow and he looks aloft,
And it's "Coil up your ropes there, fore and aft."
Then down to his cabin he quickly crawls,
And unto his steward he loudly bawls,
"Go mix me a glass that will make me cough,
For it's better weather here than it is up aloft."
We poor sailors standing on the deck,
With the blasted rain all a-pouring down our necks;
Not a drop of grog would he to us afford,
But he damns our eyes with every other word.
And one thing which we have to crave
Is that he may have a watery grave,
So we'll heave him down into some dark hole,
Where the sharks'll have his body and the devil have his soul
Colcord (Roll and Go) credits this song to Capt. Whall’s collection, where it appears (1910) under the plain title “Boston.” Whall believed it to date from around 1860-1870 and had never previously appeared in print.
A forecastle song rather than a working shanty, it satirizes the contrast between a tyrannical captain’s comfort below decks and the misery of sailors working aloft in a gale, denied grog and subjected to abuse. A variant in Halsam and Millar’s rendition substitutes a familiar “Derry down, down, down derry-down” chorus.