On the twenty-third of March, my boys,
We hoisted our topsail,
Crying, “Heaven above protect us
From the fierce and the icy gale.”
We never was downhearted
Nor let our courage fail,
But bore away up to Greenland
For to catch the Greenland whale.
And when we come to Greenland
Where the bitter winds did blow,
We tacked about all in the north
Among the frost and snow.
Our finger tops was frozen off
And likewise our toe-nails,
As we crawled on the deck, my boys,
Looking out for the Greenland whale.
And when we come in the Davis Street
Where the mountains flowed with snow,
We tacked about all in the north,
Till we heard the whalefish blow
And when we catch this whale, brave boys,
Homeward we will steer.
We'll make them valleys ring, my boys,
A-drinking of strong beer,
We'll make them lofty ale-houses
In London town to roar.
And when our money is all gone
To Greenland go for more, brave boys
To Greenland go for more.
As sung by A. L. Lloyd