We were forty miles from Albany
Forget it, I never shall!
What a terrible storm we had one night
On the E-ri-e Can*l
Chorus:
Oh, the E-ri-e was a-rising
And gin was getting low
And I scarcely think
We're gonna get a little drink
Till we get to Buffalo-o-o
Till we get to Buffalo
We were loaded down with barley
We were loaded down with rye
And the captain, he looked at me
With a gol-durn wicked eye
Chorus
The captain he come up on deck
With a spygla** in his hand
But the fog it was so tarn-ol' thick
That he couldn't spy the land
Chorus
The cook she was a grand ol' gal
She had a ragged dress
And we hoisted her upon a pole
As a signal of distress
Chorus
Well, the captain, he got married
And the cook, she went to jail;
And I'm the only son-of-a-gun
That's left to tell the tale