The gallant frigate, Amphitrite, she lay in Plymouth Sound,
Blue Peter at the foremast head for we were outward bound;
We was waiting there for orders to send us far from home;
Our orders they come for Rio, and thence around Cape Horn.

When we arrived in Rio we prepared for heavy gales;
We bent on all the rigging, me boys, bent on all new sails.
From ship to ship they cheered us as we did sail along,
And they wished us pleasant weather in the rounding of Cape Horn.

In beating off Magellan Strait it blew exceeding hard;
Whilst shortening sail two gallant tars they fell from the topsail yard.
By angry seas the ropes we threw from their poor hands was torn
We were forced to leave them to the sharks that prowl around Cape Horn.

Now when we got round the Horn, my boys, we had some glorious days
And very soon our killick dropped in Valparaiso Bay.
Them pretty girls came down in flocks; I solemnly declare
That they are far before the Plymouth girls with their long and curling hair.

Because they love a jolly sailor when he spends his money free,
They'll laugh, they sing, they merry, merry be, they enjoy a jovial spree.
And when your money it is all gone they won't on you impose,
They are not like them Plymouth girls that'll pawn and sell your clothes.

So it's farewell to Valparaiso and farewell for a while,
Likewise to all them pretty Spanish girls all along the coast of Chile;
If ever l live to be paid off l'll sit and I'll sing this song:
"God bless them pretty Spanish girls we left around Cape Horn."

Oh, the times are hard and the wages low,
Amelia, where you bound to?
The Rocky Mountains is my home,
Across the Western Ocean.

The land of promise there you'll see;
I'm bound across that Western sea.

I'll take my way from Liverpool
In Liverpool, that Yankee school

There's Liverpool Pat in a tarpaulin hat,
And Yankee Jack, the packet rat.

Beware these packet ships, I say,
They steal your stores and clothes away.

We are going away from friends and home,
We are going away to search for gold.

Fathers and mothers, say good-by,
Sisters and brothers, don't you cry.

Come all ye young tars who are cruising for sperm,
Come all ye jolly seamen who have rounded Cape Horn,
For our captain has told us and we how he says true
That there's plenty of sperm whales on the coast of Peru!

'Twas early one morning just as the sun rose
That a man from the mast-head sung out "There she blows!"
"Where away ? cried our captain, "and how does he lay?"
"Two points on our lee, sir; scarce three miles away."

"Then call up all hands and be of good cheer;
Get your lines in your boats and your tackle-falls clear.
Hoist and swing fore and aft; stand by, each boat's crew,
Lower away, lower away, as the main-yard swings to."

Our waist-boat got down, and of course she got the start.
"Lay me on, Captain Bunker, I'm hell for a long dart!".
Now bend to your oars and make the boat fly,
But one thing we dread of, keep clear of his eye!

Now the captain is fast and the whale has gone down,
And the first mate lies waiting his line to bend on.
Now the whale has come up, like a log he did lay;
Whatever he done, boys, he gave us fair play.

Line missing

But we fought him 'longside and a lance we thrust in,
Which caused the whale to vomic and the blood for to spout;
In less than ten minutes be rolled both fins out.