The Greenland Voyage, Or The Whale-Fisher's Delight: Being A Full Description Of The Manner Of The T Poem by Anonymous British

Why stay we at home, now the season is come!
Jolly lads let us liquor our throats;
Our interest we wrong, if we tarry too long,
Then all hands, let us fit out our boats,
Let each man prepare
Of the tackling his share,
By neglect a good voyage may be lost:
Come, I say, let's away,
Make no stay nor delay,
For the winter brings whales on the coast.

Harry, Will, Robin, Ned, with bold Tom in the head,
And Sam in the stern bravely stands,
As rugged a crew if we give them their due,
As did ever take oars in their hands;
Such heroes as these
Will with blood stain the seas,
When they join with theier resolute mates,
Who with might void of fright,
With delight, boldly fight
Mighty wales, as if they were but sprats.

Come coil in the warp, see the hatchets be sharp,
And make ready the irons and lance;
Each man ship his oar, and leave nothing on shore
That is needful the voyage to advance;
See the buoy be made tight,
And the drug fitted right,
So that nothing be wanting anon:
Never doubt, but look out
Round about; there's a sprout,
Come away boys, let's launch if we can.

The surf runs too high, 'twill be down by and by,
Take a slatch to go off; now 'twill do;
Huzza! launch amain, for the sea grows again,
Pull up briskly a stroke (boys) or two;
Ha, well row'd! 'tis enough,
We are clear of the snuff,
A yare hand heave out water apace;
There's the whale, that's her back,
That looks black; there's her wake,
Pull away, boys, let's give her a chase.

Ha! well row'd jolly trouts, pull away, there she spouts,
And we gain of her briskly I find;
We're much 'bout her ground, let's take a dram round;
And her rising be sure let us mind:
She's here, just a-head,
Stand up Tom, pull up Ned,
We are fast, back a stern what ye may;
Hold on lad, I'm afraid
She's a jade, she's so mad,
She's a scragg, for your lives cut away.

Cut away, row; she's off, let her go;
Though we met with misfortune already,
'Tis courage must do, for the proverb you know,
A faint heart never won a fair lady.
Come, this is no disgrace,
Pull up lads, another chase,
Our mates will be fast without doubt;
So what cheer? We are near,
She is there; no, she's here
Just a stern; jolly hearts, pull about.

Pull briskly, for there she's risen very fair,
Back a-stern, it is up to the strap;
Well done Tom, bravely throwed, cheerly lads, bravely rowed,
'Tis not always we meet with mishap.
Veer out warp, let her run,
She will quickly have done;
Well done, mate; 'twas a brave second stroke;
Now she jerks, who can work?
Veer out warp, she tows sharp;
Hang the blacksmith! our launce it is broke.

Pull a-head, hale in warp, for she tows not so sharp,
Sshe's beginning to flounce and to strike;
Fit a launce, let us try if we can by and by
Give her one gentle touch to the quick:
Bravely throwed, jolly lad,
She is not nigh so mad
As she was; t'other launce may do good,
Well done Tom, that was home,
'Twas her doom, see her foam,
She's sick at the heart, she spouts blood.

The business is done, launce no more, let's alone,
'Tis her flurry, she's as dead as a herring;
Let's take her in tow, and all hands stoutly row;
And, mate Sam, prythee mind well thhy steering,
The wind begins to blow,
And the seas bigger grow,
Every man put his strength to his oar:
Leave to prate, now 'tis late,
Well rowed mate, hey for Kate,
She's a-ground, cut away, let's ashore.

Come turn up the boats, let's put on our coats,
And to Ben's, there's a cheerupping cup;
Let's comfort our hearts, every man his two quarts,
And to-morrow all hands to cut up;
Betimes leave your wives,
Bring your hooks and your knives,
And let none lie a-bed like a lubber;
But begin with the sun,
To have done before noon;
That the carts may come down for the blubber.