In eighteen hundred and forty-six
T'was march the eighteenth day,
We hoisted our colors to the top of the mast
And for Greenland boor away, brave boys,
And for Greenland boor away
The lookout in the crosstrees stood
With a spyglass in his hand;
Theres a whale, theres a whale,
A whalefish he cried
And she blows at every span, brave boys
And she blows at every span.
Now the boats were launched and the men aboard,
And the whale was full in view.
Resolved it was each seaman bold
To steer it where the whalefish blew, brave boys
To steer it where the whalefish blew.
We stuck that whale and the line played out,
And the whale made a flounder with her tail,
The boat capsized and we lost a gallant crew,
And we never caught that whale, brave boys,
And we never caught that whale.
To lose those men, our captain said,
It grieves my heart full sore,
But lose the sale of a hundred barrel whale
Well it grieves me ten times more, brave boys
Well it grieves me ten times more
Now Greenland is a dreadful place
A place thatís never green
Where theres ice and snow, and the whalefishes blow
And the daylights seldom seen brave boys
And the daylights seldom seen.