Come all you tonguers
and land-loving lubbers
Here's a job cutting-in, and boiling down blubbers
A job for the youngster or old and ailing
The agent will grab any man for shore whaling.
am paid in soap and sugar and rum
For cutting in whale and boiling down tongue
The agent's fee makes my blood so to boil!
I'll push! him in a hot pot of oil.
hang the agent, the company too
They are making a fortune off me and off you
No chance of a passage from out of this place
And the price of living's a blooming disgrace.