‘Tis advertised in Boston, New York and Buffalo
Five hundred brave Americans, A-whaling for to go, singing
Blow, ye winds in the morning, blow, ye winds, high-ho!
Clear away your running gear, and blow, boys, blow!
They send you to New Bedord, that famous whaling port,
And give you to some land-sharks to board and fit you out.
They send you to a boarding-house, there for a time to dwell;
The thieves they there are thicker than the other side of hell!
It's now we're out to sea, my boys, the wind comes on to blow;
One half the watch is sick on deck, the other half below.
The cooper's at the vise-bench, a-making iron poles,
And the mate's upon the main hatch a-cursing all our souls.
The Skipper's on the quarter-deck a-squinting at the sails,
When up aloft the lookout sights a mighty school of whales.
Now we have got him turned up, we tow him alongside;
We over with our blubber-hooks and rob him of his hide.
But now that our old ship is full and we don't give a damn,
We'll bend on all our stu'nsails and sail for Yankee land.
When we get home, our ship made fast, and we get through our sailing,
A winding glass around we'll pass and damn this blubber whaling!