In eighteen hundred and forty-six
On March the fourteenth day,
I bought myself a calendar
For we were bound away.

We sailed from Tacky Guano
And followed the seabird’s flight,
For we were hunting whales, me boys,
At least we thought we might.

We sailed for three long days and nights
But saw no whales at all.
The mate went up the mast to look
While our captain went up the wall.

We sailed for four more days and nights
And still we had no luck;
Till a whale come up for air, me boys
And the mate cried, “Thar she suck!”

The whale she lashed her tail, me boys,
One man on deck took a glancing blow;
But not so bad as our captain
For he was wounded down below.

Now the first to throw his harpoon out
Was Valparaiso Luke.
He hit her in the tail, me boys,
But they said that was a fluke.

Now we went in with our blubber hooks
And the whale sunk down below;
We caused her for to vomit, boys,
And the mate cried,”Thar she throw!”

Now we hauled that whale on deck, me boys,
Amid many hearty cries;
But that fish it was so huge, me boys,
That our vessel did capsize.

And our captain with remorse was filled
Likewise with water too;
“I’ll no more hunt the whale,” he cried,
“If that’s the last thing I don’t do!”

“I’ll never more hunt that whale,” he cried,
And what’s more, he was right.
For the heavy seas bore down on him
And carried him from our sight.

And soon likewise we all were drown’d
None lived to tell the tale;
Not one of us survived to tell
Of how we lost that whale.

Come all you jol-ly sail-or-men that fol-low the salt sea,
I pray a warn-ing you'll take; now lis-ten un-to me,
And do not be in haste, my boys, to leave your na-tive shore,
To sail in those mean pac-kets where they put no food on board.

The twenty-eight September, lads, I'll ne'er forget that day,
The wind blew from the southwest as we got her under way.
We headed out the bay, my boys, thinking that all was right,
But little did we think we had no oil to burn that night.

Five days after leaving port in Sydney we did lay,
Our mate then said unto us, "Boys, we'll scrape her down today."
The we did commence to scrape and slush her down also,
Ans when the stewards did sing out, "Hash," our heads hung pretty low.

For when we got below, my boys, it did look pretty bad;
Our meat was stale, our bread half-baked, and butter none we had.
I guess we looked quite glum as we sat trembling like a leaf,
and every eye was fixed upon this chunk of rotten beef.

We laid there until Friday, then to South Sydney we did go.
We then discharded our ballast and got ready for to load.
We then did load a cargo of coal for Yarmouth bright and fair,
And five days after leaving port we anchored safely there.

We worked at painting all next day until the call for tea;
Then we dressed up and went on shore the pretty girls to see.
We strolled about the busy street uuntil the clock struck ten,
And we jogged on board of our "poor-house"; we felt quite sleepy then.

Next morning bright and early as we in our bunks did lay,
We heard our mate shout from on deck, "Boys, get her under way!"
We then jumped up and went o n deck to hear the next command;
'Twas "Get the hawser ready, boys, the tow boat is at hand."

We bid the Yarmouth girls adieu and towed outside the bay,
And after putting ropes shipshape, our mate to us did say:
"We are now bound down the coast, lads, to the port that's called Cow Bay"
To load another cargo for where I cannot say"

Five days after leaving port, In Cow Bay we did lay,
And there we had a gale of wind which made us work all day.
We carried fenders all day long; our sholders felt quite sore
Until we all agreed that we would carry them no more.

We then discharged our ballast and got ready for to load,
But where our craft was loading for 'twas no one of us knowed
Until we had her under way and slipped out with the tide,
Our Captain told our chief mate, "We are bound to Summerside."

Now sway and shout, my jolly tars, the wind is blowing mild.
We soon will set our topsails and steer for Summerside.
It's then we will parade on shore up to some butcher stall
For butter and meat that's fit to eat and likewise kerosene oil.

Our steward's name was Edmund Brown, as you will understand,
He went on shore in Summerside and worked a dirty plan;
He fell in with a maiden there whose name I do not know,
He told our Captain his wife was sick and home he had to go.

Our Captain thought the words the steward had told to him were true,
He left him go home, as he thought the lad was going to do;
But to our great surprise we heard from all around the town,
The steward and his fair maid had left to be married in Charlottetown.

Well, now my song is ended so I'll just relate to you
the names of these four hungry men who were the Blizzard's crew:
there's harry, Carles and Robert Burns, belonging to this town*
and likewise Harry from LaHave, who helped to write this song.

Well now, my lads from far and near, a word I'll give to you;
If you will lend a list'ning ear I'll tell you what to do
Never ship in Wolf's "poor-house," she'll shtarve you right to death.
So now you'll please excuse me, for I'm nearly out of breath.