trad.

Twas in eighteen hundred and sixty three
On March the thirteenth day,
Our gallant ship her anchor weighed,
And for Greenland bore away, brave boys,
   And for Greenland bore away.

The lookout on the cross-trees stood
With a spy glass in his hand,
There's a whale, there's a whale, there's a whale fish he cried,
And she blows at every span, brave boys,
   And she blows at every span.

Our Captain stood on the quarter deck,
And a right bold man was he.
Overhaul, overhaul, let your davit-tackle fall,
And we launched the boats to sea, brave boys,
   And we launched the boats to sea.

Well we struck that fish and the line played out,
But she made a flunder with her tail,
Our boat capsized, and we lost seven of our men,
And we never caught that whale, brave boys,
   And we never caught that whale.

Oh the losing of those fine brave men,
Well it grieved our captain sore.
But the losing of that sperm-whale fish,
Oh it grieved him ten times more, brave boys,
   Oh it grieved him ten times more.

Oh Greenland is a dreadful place,
It's a land that's never green,
Where there's ice and snow and the whale fishes blow,
And the daylight's seldom seen, brave boys,
   And the daylight's seldom seen.