It was in the year of ninety-four, in March the twentieth day,
Our gallant tars their anchors weighed, and for sea they bore away,
And for sea they bore away.
Speedicut was our captain's name, our ship was the Lyon bold,
And we had gone to sea, brave boys, to face the storm and cold.
When that we came to the cold country
Where the frost and the snow did lie,
Where the frost and the snow, and the whale-fish so
blue and the daylight's never gone,
And the daylight's never gone.
Our boatswain went to topmost high, with his spy-glass in his hand,
"A whale, a whale, a whale," he did cry,
"And she blows at every span."
Our captain stood on the quarter deck, and a clever
little man was he,
Overhaul, overhaul, let the wind-tackle fall, and
to launch your boats so free,
And to launch your boats so free.
There's harpooneers, and line coilers, and line colecks also;
There's boat-steerers and sailors brave;
To the whale, to where she blows, to the whale, to where she blows,
To the whale, to where she blows.
We struck the whale, and away she went, casts a flourish
with her tail,
But Oh, and alas, we've lost one man, and we did not kill the whale,
And we did not kill that whale.
When that the news to our captain it did come, a sorrowful
man was he,
For the losing of his prentice boy, and down his colours drew he,
And down his colours drew he.
Now, my lads, don't be amazed for the losing of one man,
For fortune it will take its place, let a man do all he can,
Let a man do all he can.