Blow Ye Winds in the Morning

'Tis advertised in Boston,
New York and Buffalo,
Five hundred brave Americans,
A-whaling for to go, singing,
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
They take you to New Bedford town,
That famous whaling port,
And give you some land-sharks
There to board and fit you out. Singin'
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
They'll tell you of the clipper ships
going in and out,
And say you'll take five hundred sperm
Before you're six months out. Singin'
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
It's now we're out to sea, my boys,
The wind comes on to blow;
One half the watch is sick on deck,
The other half below. Singin'
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
But as for the provisions,
We don't get half enough;
A little piece of stinking beef
And a blamed small bag of duff.
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
Next comes the running rigging,
Which you're all supposed to know;
"Lay aloft, you son of a gun,
Or overboard you go!"
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
The Skipper's on the quarterdeck
A-squinting at the sails,
up aloft the lookout sights
A school of spouting whales. Singin'
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
"Now clear away the boats, my boys,
And after him we'll travel,
But if you get too near his fluke,
He'll kick you to the devil!" Singin'
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
Now we have got him turned up,
We tow him alongside;
We over with our blubber hooks,
And rob him of his hide. Singin'
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
Next comes the stowing down, my boys,
'Twill take both night and day,
And you'll all have fifty cents apiece
On the hundred and ninetieth lay. Singin'
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!
When we get home, our ship makes fast,
And we get through our sailing,
A winding glass around we'll pass
And damn this blubber whaling!
Blow, ye winds in the morning,
Blow, ye winds, high-o!
Clear away your running gear,
And blow, boys, blow!