In eighteen hundred and forty-six
'Twas March of the eighteenth day
We hoisted our colors to the top of the mast
And for Greenland bore away, brave boys
And for Greenland bore away
The lookout in the crosstrees stood
With a spyglass in his hand
"There's a whale, there's a whale, a whalefish," he cried
"And she blows at every span, brave boys
And she blows at every span"
Then 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 struck 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 to lose the sail 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 that's never green
Where there's ice and snow and the whalefishes blow
And the daylight's seldom seen, brave boys
And the daylight's seldom seen
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