| lyrics or other text: | Source:Digital Tradition Mirror
'Tis advertised in Boston, New York, and Buffalo:
Five hundred brave Americans a-whalin' for to go.
Chorus:
Singing Blow ye winds in the morning,
Blow ye winds, heigh-ho!
Clear away your runnin' gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
(or: And blow, ye winds heigh-ho!)
They send you to New Bedford, that famous whaling port,
And give you to some land sharks to board and fit you out.
They send you to a boardin' house, there for a time to dwell;
The thieves there they are thicker than the other side of Hell.
They tell you of the clipper ships a-runnin' in and out,
And say you'll take five hundred sperm before you're six months out.
And 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 skipper's on the quarterdeck a-squintin' at the sails,
When up aloft the lookout spots a mighty school of whales.
Then lower down the boats, my boys, and after him we'll travel,
But if you get too near his tail, he'll kick you to the Devil.
When we've caught a whale, my boys, we'll bring 'im alongside,
Then over with our blubber-hooks and rob him of his hide.
When we get home, our ship made fast, when we get through our
sailin',
A brimming glass around we'll pass, and damn this blubber
whalin'.
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