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Sea shanties and maritime music

The songs of the sea have a long legacy of scholarship, musicianship, and public performance. From the work songs of deep-water sailors and fishermen, to the ballads taken into pubs and forecastles, these songs have been used to coordinate effort, remember shore life, and sometimes just pass the time.

The songs themselves have been passed from ship to ship, printed in newspapers and books, shared at festivals, learned from video games, and remixed on social media. Hundreds of sea music-specific albums have been recorded, and maritime music comprises a distinct genre.

This Day in History (February 29, 1908)

This Day in History (January 8, 1806)

The death of Lord Nelson was a national tragedy like no other for England. "From Greenwich to Whitehall Stairs, on the 8th of January, 1806, in one of the greatest Aquatic Processions that ever was beheld on the River Thames" drifted the royal shallop (barge). The event is referenced in the modern lament, Carrying Nelson Home. Nelson is mentioned in nearly a dozen other songs.

Try a random shanty sampling

Vi Styrte Ut Över Atlanten
Hauling shanty

We set out over the Atlantic - pull home! -
With a ship whose home-port was not so far from here.
Ch: Haul them home! Haul them home! Haul them home and belay!

Ho, be fine; ho, be right, every single man - pull home! -
Set sail to the masthead, and running free we set out.

Callao was our port, thence we go - pull home! -
Like a louse on a tarry fist, O ho ho!

The provisions exhausted, the skipper he swore - pull home! -
We starved and we froze nigh unto death.
The Little Golden Ring
Forecastle song

Memory carries my fancy
Back to the days that are long past gone;
There stands a sailor dressed in garments of blue,
Biding a lone, weeping widow adieu
Vows of the future he laughingly makes,
While from her finger a keeper she takes,
And with words so tender, broken with tears
These were the words whispered into my ears

(Quicker)
"'Tis but a little golden ring she gave to me with pride;
Wear it for your mother's sake when you're on the tide.
If you are in trouble, comfort it will bring
To think of me while gazing on that little golden ring."

Now it's "God bless us," 'twixt Mother and me.
Good-by forever, perhaps it may be.
Then he turned and manfully strode,
Till hidden from view by a turn in the road.
When on the vessel the anchor is weighed,
Then for some strange destination they made,
But bright as a beacon my keeper doth gleam,
And the voice of my mother doth say in my dream:

Time brought promotion and honor to me.
Duty was done as duty should be.
Every mail brought me a letter from home,
Oft-times were opened in grief, I must own.
Slowly but surely those letters decreased,
Then all of a sudden they silently ceased.
But bright as a beacon my keeper doth gleam,
And the voice of my mother doth say in my dream:

Now then, old England's white cliffs are at hand;
Once more I see my own native land.
Strangers were there for to answer my call,
For Mother was sleeping her last sleep of all.
Gold or silver or jewels divine
Could not tempt me to part with that keeper of mine,
For bright as a beacon that keeper doth gleam,
And the voice of my mother doth say in my dream:

The Yangtze River Shanty
Heaving shanty
Away-ay, boys, away-o!
Blow me down this Yangtse River,
Away, boys, lift and walk away!

My lotus lady, I'll see no more,
Ch: Away, boys, away-o!
Since I left her on the China shore,
Ch: Away, boys, lift and walk away!

When we first met, she was like a queen,
Prettiest little thing I'd ever seen

She'd flashing eyes and long black hair,
All I could do was stand and stare,

I bought her silks and a golden comb,
Trouble's over now, the anchor's home,

I blowed my silver for to win her,
Now there's nothing left but donkey's dinner,

We're homeward bound, cookie's in the galley,
Farewell, Young Moon, of the Yangtse Valley,
Row, Bullies, Row
Forecastle song

From Eng-land to... California I went,
To stay in that country was my full intent,
But drinking bad whiskey, like ev'ry damn fool,
Soon got me imported back to Liverpool.

Julia, roll!
Roll! Julia, roll!
The Liverpool girls they've got us in tow!

The Alaska of Boston lies down in the Bay,
Waiting for a fair wind to get under way.
The sailors on board, so sick and so sore,
Their whiskey's all gone, they can't get no more.

Here comes our mate, with his jacket so blue;
He's looking for work for the sailors to do.
Then "Jib tops'l halliards!" he loudly does roar,
Saying, "Lay aloft, Paddy, you son of a whore!"

That night off Cape Horn I shall never forget,
And well I remember, I think of it yet,
She was running bows under, and the sailors all wet.
She was scudding twelve knots with her main skys'l set.

Here's to our captain, wherever he be,
He's a friend to his sailors on land or on sea;
But as for our mate, he's a dirty old brute,
And I hope when he dies straight to hell he'll skyhoot.
Mainsail Café, 2026 Contact