On the twenty-third of March, my boys,
We hoisted our topsail,
Crying, "Heaven above protect us
With a sweet and a pleasant gale."
We never was downhearted, boys,
Nor let our courage fail,
But bore away unto Greenland
For to catch the Greenland whale.
And when that we come to Greenland
Where the bitter winds did blow,
We tacked about all in the north
All among the frost and snow.
Our finger-tips were frozen off
Likewise were our toe-nails,
As we crawled on the deck, my boys,
Looking out for Greenland whale.
And when that we come to Imez
Where the mountains flowed with snow,
We tacked about all in the north,
Till we heard the whalefish blow
And when we catch this whale, my boys,
Homeward we will steer.
We'll make those valleys ring, my boys,
All a-drinking of strong beer,
We'll make those lofty ale-houses
In London town to roar.
And when our money is all gone
To Greenland go for more,
Oh, to Greenland go for more.