The Wellerman Traditional Sea Shanty, arr. Martin Schröder
Ron Macdonald, solo
There once was a ship that put to sea
The name of the ship was the Billy O' Tea
The winds blew up, her bow dipped down
Oh blow, my bully boys, blow (huh)
Refrain
Soon may the Wellerman come
To bring us sugar and tea and rum
One day, when the tonguing is done
We'll take our leave and go
She'd not been two weeks from shore
When down on her a right whale bore
The captain called all hands and swore
He'd take that whale in tow (huh)
Refrain
Before the boat had hit the water
The whale's tail came up and caught her
All hands to the side, harpooned and fought her
When she dived down low (huh)
Refrain
No line was cut, no whale was freed
An’ the captain's mind was not of greed
But he belonged to the Whaleman's creed
She took that ship in tow (huh)
Refrain
For forty days or even more
The line went slack then tight once more
All boats were lost, there were only four
But still that whale did go (huh)
Refrain
As far as I've heard, the fight's still on
The line's not cut, and the whale's not gone
The Wellerman makes his regular call
To encourage the captain, crew and all (huh)
Refrain
Away from the Roll of the Sea Allister MacGillivray, arr. Diane Loomer
Small craft in a harbour that’s still and serene,
Give no indication what their ways have been;
They rock at their moorings all nestled in dreams,
Away from the roll of the sea.
Their stern lines are groaning a lullaby air,
A ghost in the cuddy, a gull on the spar;
But never they whisper of journeys afar,
Away from the roll of the sea.
Oh, had they the tongues for to speak,
What tales of adventure they’d weave;
But now they are anchored to sleep,
And slumber alee.
Come fair winds to wake them tomorrow, we pray,
Come harvest a-plenty to them ev’ry day;
Till guided by harbour lights they’re home to stay,
Away from the roll of the sea.
​
The Water Is Wide Traditional, arr. Miles Ramsay
The water is wide, I can’t get o’er
and neither have I wings to fly.
Build me a boat that can carry two
and both shall row, my love and I.
There is a ship and she sails the sea
loaded deep as deep can be
but not so deep as the love I’m in.
I know not how I sink or swim.
Love is handsome and love is fine,
the sweetest flow’r when first it’s new
but love grows old and waxes cold
and fades away like summer dew.
The water is wide, I can’t get o’er
and neither have I wings to fly.
Build me a boat that can carry two
and both shall row, my love and I.
​
Ode to the Fishermen John Gracie,
arr. Donna Rhodenizer and Andy Duinker
Bruce McCulloch, solo
Go down to the sea, you’ll see them there
on every rock and wave.
The hardy souls of hardy men,
no tombstones mark their graves.
And musty eyes say mighty words,
to this I can attest.
No soul of sea and sailing way
Round yet a better rest
From wind and water where we stand,
let no man know the way
the howl of wind and wash of surf
have kept me far from bay.
So whistle wind, sea heave and roar,
this man shall sail no more.
The ghosts of rowdy fishermen
lie docile on your shore.
Go down to the sea, you’ll see them there
on every rock and wave.
The hardy souls of hardy men,
no tombstones mark their graves.
And musty eyes say mighty words,
to this I can attest.
No soul of sea and sailing way
Round yet a better rest
Hunker Down Tobin Stokes
Tim McClare, solo
No you won’t be leavin’ on the sea tonight,
there are whitecaps comin’ an’ it don’t feel right.
All the tugs are tyin’ up their booms below
to the buoys down Marine in a long neat row.
Well the noon boat left for good today,
and the other one is broke down in Salt’ry Bay.
Hangin’ over Forbidden is a darknin’ sky,
so you can’t take the plane ‘cuz it ain’t gonna fly.
Chorus: Hunker down for the evening,
shut your doors and windows tight,
there’s a Southeastern comin’,
hunker down for the night.
Well there ain’t no road you can drive away
and besides you’d be lost if you drove all day,
so there ain’t no trail ‘cuz you’d break your back
and there ain’t no train ‘cuz there ain’t no track.
If your boat’s in the harbour then you’d better go
check that the ropes are tight, or you’ll own a wreck.
If your kids are playin’ down at Grief Point Park,
motor down to keep warm, pick ‘em up, get ‘em home before dark.
Chorus
If the firs are swayin’ and they’re lookin’ to break,
better pray if you got a cabin up the lake,
If the crows stop flyin’ and the gulls sit still
then the hulks’ll get a poundin’ down in front of the mill.
Well there hasn’t been a blast since two today,
Not a sound from Vananda up to Blubber Bay,
so forget it if you’re hopin’ to get out o’ this town,
Better maker your final meal before the power’s down.
Chorus
Sea Fever Robbie Smith, arr. Stephen Smith
I must go down to the seas again,
to the lonely sea and the sky.
And all I ask is a tall ship
and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the winds song
and the white sails shaking
and a grey mist on the sea’s face
and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again,
for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call
that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day
with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume
and the seagulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again,
to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way
where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn
from a laughing fellow rover,
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream
when the long trick’s over.
Bluenose Stan Rogers, arr. T. Worthington
Once again with the tide she slips her lines
Turns her head and comes awake,
where she lay so still there at Privateer’s wharf
now she quickly gathers way.
She will range far south from the harbour mouth
and rejoice with ev’ry wave:
who will know the Bluenose in the sun.
Feel her bow rise free of mother sea
in a sunburst cloud of spray;
that stings the cheek while the rigging will speak
of sea miles gone away;
she is always best under full press,
hard over as she’ll lay;
who will know the Bluenose in the sun.
That proud fast Queen of the Grand Banks Fleet
portray’d on ev’ry dime
Knew hard work in her time
hard work in every line.
The rich man’s toys of the Glouc’ster boys
with their token bit of cod
they snapped their spars and strained to pass her by
But she left the all behind.
Now her namesake daughter remains
to show what she had been;
what every schoolboy remembers
and will not come again;
To think she’s the last of the Grand Banks Schooners
that fed so many men.
who will know the Bluenose in the sun.
So does she not take wing like a living thing,
child of the moving tide?
See her pass with grace on the water’s face
with clean and quiet pride;
Our own tall ship of great renown
still lifts unto the sky,
who will know the Bluenose in the sun.
Let Me Fish Off Cape St. Mary’s Traditional Newfoundland
Otto P. Kelland, arr. Jim Duff
Tim McClare, solo
I sailed away to distant shores to seek my fortune,
but my heart’s still home.
Take me back to my western boat.
Let me fish off Cape St. Mary’s
where the hagdowns sail and the foghorns wail,
with my friends the Browns and the Clearys.
Let me fish off Cape St. Mary’s.
Let me feel my dory lift to the broad Atlantic combers,
where the tide rips swirl and the wild ducks whirl,
where Old Neptune calls the numbers,‘neath the broad Atlantic combers.
Let me view that rugged shore where the beach is all aglisten,
with the caplin spawn where from night to dawn
you bait your trawl and listen to the undertow ahissin’.
Let me go to that snug green cove where the seas roll up their thunder.
There let me rest in the earths cool breast,
where the stars shine out their wonder. And the seas roll up their thunder.
Peter on de Sea, Sea, Sea, Sea David Ochterlony
arr. Terry Hurrell
Peter on de sea, sea, sea, sea, drop your nets and follow me.
And think of Daniel in the lion’s den.
Gabriel blow your trumpet loud.
Who did swaller Jonah up.
Whale did swaller Jonah up.
All for Me Grog Traditional Sea Shanty, arr. Stephen Hatfield
Chorus: All for me grog, me jolly jolly grog,
All for me grog an’ tabacca!
For I spent all me store with the lassies on the shore,
And it’s all for me grog an’ tabacca!
When I come home then my sweetheart I shall see.
All for me grog an’ tabacca!
An’ my sweetheart’ll sing when she sees the wedding ring.
And it’s all for me grog an’ tabacca!
Chorus
When there’s a wee one to dangle on her knee,
All for me grog an’ tabacca!
She can sing him to sleep while her man is off to sea!
And it’s all for me grog an’ tabacca!
Chorus
When he’s a man then a sailor he shall be.
All for me grog an’ tabacca!
With his pipe and his can like a proper sailor man,
And it’s all for me grog an’ tabacca!
Chorus
Whale Festival Ainu Folksong, arr. Osamu Shimizu
Funbe yana funboe
Beshita yana funboe
Inka no utaru funboe
Sapa in karun funboe
Translation: A whale came to the beach.
It’s nice weather
Let’s go to the beach
It’s nice weather.
What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor English Sea Shanty
arr. Alice Parker and Robert Shaw
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
Early in the mornin'
Chorus
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the mornin'
Put him in a long boat 'til he's sober
Put him in a long boat 'til he's sober
Put him in a long boat 'til he's sober
Early in the mornin'
Chorus
Pull out the plug and wet him all over
Pull out the plug and wet him all over,
Pull out the plug and wet him all over,
Chorus
Stick him in the scuppers with a hosepipe on him
Stick him in the scuppers with a hosepipe on him
Stick him in the scuppers with a hosepipe on him
Early in the mornin'
Chorus
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
Early in the mornin'
Chorus
Heave him by the leg with a runnin’ bowlin’
Heave him by the leg with a runnin’ bowlin’
Heave him by the leg with a runnin’ bowlin’
Early in the mornin'
Chorus
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald Gordon Lightfoot
Phil Porter, solo arr. Alan Dunbar
Tom Black, guitar Colin Matthews, cello
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they call Gitchi Gummi.
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the gales of November came early.
The ship was the pride of th’American side
comin' back from some mill in Wisconsin.
As the big freighters go it was bigger than most
with a crew and good captain well-seasoned,
concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms,
when they left fully loaded for Cleveland.
Then later that night when the ships bell rang
could it be the north wind they’d been feelin’?
The wind and the wires made a tattletale sound
when the wave broke over the railin’.
And ev’ry man knew, as the captain did too,
‘twas the witch of November come stealin’!
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin’!
When afternoon came, it was freezin’ rain
in the face of a hurricane west wind.
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck
sayin', “Fellas, it’s too rough to feed ya.”
At seven p.m. the main hatchway gave in.
He said, “fellas, it’s been good to know ya.”
The Captain wired in he had water comin’ in,
and the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went out of sight.
came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald!
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they’d have made Whitefish Bay
if they’d put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized,
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
At the Maritime Sailor’s Cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they call Gitchi Gummi.
“Superior,” they said, “never gives up her dead
when the gales of November come early.”
The Stars Are with the Voyager Eleanor Daley
The stars are with the voyager
Wherever he may sail;
The moon is constant to her time;
The sun will never fail;
But follow, follow round the world,
The green earth and the sea;
So love is with the lover's heart,
Wherever he may be.
Wherever he may be, the stars
Must daily lose their light;
The moon will veil her in the shade;
The sun will set at night.
The sun may set, but constant love
Will shine when he's away;
So that dull night is never night,
And day is brighter day.
Old Lady Rose Dave Baker, arr. Larry Nickel
Sing farewell when I sail on the old Lady Rose.
I’m a fisherman’s son and I’ll follow the runs
like my father has done all his days.
For I’m one of a breed who must live from the sea
and bide by her harsh rugged ways.
But with every new season the salmon runs wane
and soon I must bid them adieu.
In this land that is mine I can no longer find
the contentment my father once knew.
Chorus: Sing farewell to this good life I’m leavin’
I may never return I suppose.
These cold rains will hide these tears in my eyes
when I sail on the Old Lady Rose.
I remember the days and my childhood ways
when I’d watch the fleet steal through the night.
I can still feel the thrill of a hold nearly filled
with the fish that provides our good life.
For the land and the sea is in each part of me
as my father so often explained.
Though try as I may to follow his way
there is something that’s just not the same.
Chorus
I’m worried I’ll find I’m just not the kind
who can walk all alone in a crowd.
I’m not sure I’ll know where to turn, where to go
who to talk to when no one’s around.
For if I’m not a part of the sea and the waves,
Then life will seem empty, they say
I’m hoping there’ll be a new life for me
when my old home fades slowly away.
Chorus
Shores of Nova Scotia Isabel Belina, arr. Frances Farrell
We sailed upon the ocean,
oh we crossed the brooding seas
with our few possessions
and our babes upon our knees.
To the shores of Nova Scotia
where from out the rain and cold
came the winds to raise the spirit
and soothe our weary souls.
We learned to till the earth
oh and out men went out to sea
to provide a living
for our growing families.
Oh the shores of Nova Scotia
through all those many years
came the winds to raise the spirit
and calm our ancient fears.
Chorus: On and on tireless winds
oh the land and sea.
On and on dawn to dawn
from eternity.
From e’vry generation born
the restless ones must leave.
They tell us how it’s better there.
Well that’s what they believe.
But the shores of Nova Scotia
are for me the only place
where the winds can raise the spirit
and cross all time and space.
Chorus
We sailed upon the ocean,
oh we crossed the brooding seas
with our few possessions
and our babes upon our knees.
To the shores of Nova Scotia
where from out the rain and cold
came the winds to raise the spirit
and soothe our weary souls.
Skippers & Mates Robbie Smith, arr Mark Sirett
Alan McGrath, solo
Come all ye wise or simple men,
to man the cargo ships again.
We place no stock in rank nor name.
To the rollin’ seas you’re all the same.
Skippers and mates and deckhands.
All ye hale and hearty sailors!
Hoist, hoist the sails once more!
There’s plenty of food for the men that work
and mouldy bread for those that shirk.
Now coins are scarce, I’m sure you know.
So sign aboard and get below.
Skippers and mates and deckhands.
Chorus: Oh leave behind your sons and daughters.
Set for foreign waters. Sail, me hearties, sail!
Wave goodbye to your wives and lovers!
Cut the ropes and clear the scuppers! Sail!
There’ll be no joking with your friends.
There’s decks to wash and sails to mend
You’ll get no rest around the horn,
You’ll wish, by gum, you’d never been born.
Skippers and mates and deckhands.
Chorus
And when at last you’re back on shore,
You’ll swear to God you’ll sail no more.
You’ll pledge an oath to never leave home,
Till you hear the call from the briny foam.
Skipper and mates and deckhands.
Shipyard Shanty Robbie Smith, arr. Chris Bowman
Lay another plank down boys,
sing a shipyard shanty everyone.
Lay another plank down boys,
we’ll be tastin’ the rum when she’s done,
when her seafaring life’s begun.
We’ve been bending our backs all through the winter,
cutting the spruce, the oak and the fir.
She has to be made of the finest timber
and twice as long as the other ones were.
She’s a handsome schooner sound and sturdy
built to rival the Marblehead line.
Pick up the pace for the sun sets early
and there’s extra pay if she’s finished on time.
Lay another plank down boys,
sing a shipyard shanty everyone.
Lay another plank down boys,
she'll soon be ready for the springtime run.
It’s been nigh on a year since first we started
and many long days since we bolted the keel.
It’s hard to believe we’ll soon be parted
when the captain comes to take hold of the wheel.
But we’ll stand and watch the outline fading
into the mist at the mouth of the bay.
Roundin’ the cape and ridin’ the trade winds,
Gatherin' speed as she sails away.
Lay another plank down boys,
As a merchant vessel she’ll be second to none.
Lay another plank down boys,
it’s time for the last inspection.
Lay another plank down boys,
she'll be launched tomorrow with the rising sun.
We’ll turn the capstan crank round boys,
and we’ll give her soul to the ocean.
We’ve watched her grow from a stack of lumber,
We’ve given her strength and we’ve given her form.
I pray she’ll not be torn asunder
out on a reef in the teeth of a storm.
No she’ll do us proud taking the breakers,
skirting the shoals through the billowing spray.
Paying respect to her shorebound makers
Long after we’ve all passed away.
Lay another plank down boys,
sing a shipyard shanty everyone.
Lay another plank down boys,
we’ll be tastin’ the rum when she’s done,
when her seafaring life’s begun.