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Greenland Whale Fisheries – Judy Collins

When the whale gets strike, and the line run down,
And the whale makes a flunder with its tail,
And the boat capsized, and I lost my darling man;
No more, no more Greenland for you, brave boys,
No more, no more Greenland for you.

It was in eighteen hundred and fifty-three,
On June the thirteenth day,
That our gallant ship her anchor weighed
And for Greenland sailed away, brave boys,
And for Greenland sailed away.

The lookout on the crosstree stood
With a spyglass in his hand.
"There's a whale, there's a whale,
there's a whalefish," he cries,
"She blows out every span, brave boys,
She blows out every span."

We struck that whale and the line paid out,
But she made a flunder with her tail;
And the boat capsized and four men were drowned,
And we never caught that whale whale, brave boys,
We never caught that whale.

"To lose my crew," the captain cried,
"It grieves my heart full sore;
But to lose that whale,
It grieves me ten times more, brave boys,
It grieves me ten time more."

Oh, Greenland is a dreadful place,
A land that's never green,
Where there's ice and snow, and the whalefishes blow,
And daylight is seldom seen, brave boys,
And daylight is seldom seen.

When the whale gets strike, and the line run down,
And the whale makes a flunder with its tail,
And the boat capsized, and I lost my darling man;
No more, no more Greenland for you, brave boys,
No more, no more Greenland for you.

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